


Holiday Dribbles and Drabbles

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories, each based on a single prompt while centering around winter and the holidays at Torchwood. Warnings for fluff, silliness, an occasional bit of depth, and quite a bit of Jack and Ianto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scarves (Series 2)

I. Scarves (Series 2)

"It's really not that cold, you know," said Jack as they walked side-by-side along the boardwalk and back toward the tourist office.

Ianto glanced up at the grey Cardiff sky; any moment it could start spitting snow and ice on them. "According the hub's sensors, it's three degrees below zero. With the wind off the bay it probably feels more like ten below."

"It's refreshing," said Jack, breathing deeply—so deeply in fact, that the cold, dry air gave him a coughing fit.

Ianto smugly wrapped his scarf around his neck and offered an exaggerated sigh of warm comfort. Jack rolled his eyes.

"It's rather old-fashioned," he said. Ianto raised an eyebrow; Jack was the last one to talk about looking old-fashioned. "For you, that is."

"You're just jealous that my neck is warm and yours is not."

"I could warm your neck for you," Jack murmured suggestively.

Now it was Ianto's turn to roll his eyes. "Not whilst walking along the boardwalk in the middle of the morning," he pointed out.

"Later?" asked Jack.

"Maybe."

"Why maybe?"

"Maybe if you stop making fun of my outerwear and the fact that I simply prefer to stay warm in the morning."

Jack was quiet for a moment. "It is a  _nice_  scarf," he finally admitted. He reached out to the finger the edges. "Soft."

"Cashmere," murmured Ianto.

"And it looks good on you," Jack continued.

"Thank you," replied Ianto, refusing to rise to whatever Jack was baiting him toward. "I like it."

"I do, too." Ianto didn't respond. "Where did you get it?"

"Marks and Spencer," Ianto replied.

"Maybe I should get one," Jack mused, and Ianto narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious.

"I thought it wasn't that cold?" he asked. "That it was old-fashioned?"

Jack shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "It looks comfortable, and you know I like old-fashioned." He paused. "And think of what we could do with two of them—we've got two arms, two legs, two—"

"Yes, I get it," Ianto cut him off. "Quite the visual, thank you."

"I like the visual," Jack murmured. "So should we stop and get me one?"

Ianto couldn't help the skeptical look that floated across his face. "You want me to go shopping with you? For a scarf?"

Jack nodded, an open, eager look on his face that Ianto almost couldn't resist, but managed to at least deflect.

"Well," he hedged. "Maybe if you take me out to dinner later."

"Done," agreed Jack.

"And then let me try a few of own my ideas first," Ianto continued, knowing exactly how to play Jack when it came to certain…arrangements.

"Also done," said Jack. He slipped an arm through Ianto's elbow. "Are you sure you don't have one you could lend me until then?" he murmured.

"Dinner first, Jack," Ianto replied.

"Can we share?" asked Jack. "I'm cold."

Ianto laughed. "I'll warm you up back at the hub," he whispered, leaning in to kiss Jack's neck.

"I'll hold you to that," Jack replied with a shiver.

"I hope so."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sixteen short stories, each based on a single word prompt. Some are set series one, some are set series two. Most are not connected. Originally published on Fanfiction.net in 2013 and 2014, so if they look familiar, that's why. Happy Holidays and thank you for reading!


	2. Father Christmas

II. Father Christmas (Series 2)

"I think he's creepy," stated Tosh, sipping at a warm cappucino. They'd gone out for coffee to mix things up for once and were relaxing in the boardroom while they waited for Jack to go over the latest reports of Rift activity.

"That's because you're grownup now," said Gwen. "Adults loose that sense of wonder he inspires in children. I loved him—still do."

Owen snorted, the only possible reaction to the conversation. "Does that mean you're still a child?" Gwen gave him an exasperated look, so he continued, hands crossed over his chest as he watched them drink. "He never inspired me as a kid. I always wanted to punch him in the face."

"Why am I not surprised you were a disparaging six-year-old?" murmured Ianto.

"And what did you think about the old man then?" Owen shot back. "As a kid?"

Ianto was quiet for a moment. "Tosh was disturbed, Gwen was in love with him—"

"Was not."

"And you wanted to hit him."

"You summed it up nicely," said Owen. "Now answer the question."

Ianto finished his coffee as he thought about it.

"I didn't believe in him," he finally replied. "Not really. But strangely enough, I did believe in the elves."

"Why the elves and not him?" asked Gwen curiously. "That seems odd."

Ianto shrugged. "I was an odd child. Obviously the elves did all the work. It seemed unfair that he got all the credit just for delivering everything they'd worked so hard to make."

"You would see it that way," Owen said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't anymore," Ianto replied, unaffected by the doctor's sarcasm "Every organization needs its hierarchy to function successfully."

"I think it's sweet," said Tosh, and Ianto inclined his head in thanks. "Ianto was more interested in the people behind the scenes, the ones who did all the hard work."

"And that obviously didn't influence his career choice," Owen snorted.

Even Ianto smiled at that, but any more discussion was interrupted when Jack finally entered the boardroom to start the meeting. He was wearing bright red braces and a red furry hat.

Tosh giggled, Gwen smiled, Owen rolled his eyes again, and Ianto sighed.

"Did I interrupt something?" Jack asked, grinning at their varied reactions.

"We were just talking about you," said Owen, pointing at Jack's head. "Nice hat."

"Like it?"

"No."

"I do," said Gwen quickly. "But they don't appreciate the holiday spirit."

Jack frowned. "You guys don't like Father Christmas? How's that possible? Tosh?"

"Creepy old man."

"Owen?"

"Sanctimonious prick."

"Ianto?"

"Overbearing autocrat, sir."

Jack sat down heavily at his place and took off the hat. "Wow. My team hates Santa Claus. Guess I won't pull out the rest of the suit."

"You do not!" Gwen exclaimed.

"I do," said Jack with a shrug. "It's a good one, too. I've done the Santa gig several times."

Ianto set down his coffee. "What?"

Jack grinned. "I liked it, especially when the mums would sit on my lap, too." He waggled his eyebrows, but Ianto was staring at Gwen, whose eyes couldn't possibly be wider.

"Where?" she asked.

"Where what?" Jack repeated.

"Where did you sit as Father Christmas?"

"And more importantly, when?" asked Ianto.

Jack leaned back, hands behind his head as he seemed to think about it. "Oh, it's been at least twenty, twenty-five years. I mostly played him up at the castle. Posh gig, too."

Gwen's mouth dropped open while Ianto slowly closed his eyes. Jack sat up, looking concerned. "What's the matter?"

"It's quite possible I sat on your lap there, Jack," said Gwen, biting her lip. "My parents took me when I was eight."

"Excellent!" Jack exclaimed, then turned to Ianto. "And you?"

Ianto opened his eyes and grinned ruefully. "I would have been the five-year-old who refused and lectured you on overworking and underpaying the elves."

Jack's eyes widened. "That was you?" he asked. A silent nod from Ianto confirmed it.

"You were already that cynical as a kid?"

"Not cynical," corrected Ianto. "Concerned."

"And bloody annoying," murmured Jack.

"Some things never change," said Owen, and Gwen gave him a reproachful look.

"That's right," said Tosh. "Ianto's still concerned about us being overworked and underpaid."

"Underpaid?" asked Jack. "Seriously?"

"Okay, maybe just overworked."

"That's Torchwood for you," said Jack cheerfully.

"And we're the bloody elves," murmured Ianto.

Gwen, Owen, and Tosh gaped at him. Ianto met their gaze and slowly began to grin, until finally they all burst out laughing.

Jack watched them for a moment before clearing his throat. He put on the hat again. "All right, time to get to business, then, elves," he said. "Ianto, have you fed the reindeer? Owen, are the toys packed in the sleigh? Tosh, I need satellite control starting at midnight so no one tracks us. And Gwen, you're on Rift duty in case anything comes through to ruin Christmas."

They all stared at him for a moment before they started laughing once more. And this time Jack joined them, because Father Christmas was nothing if not jolly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there was much role-playing later that night. ;-)


	3. Gift

III. Gift (Series 1)

"Ianto!" Jack called from his office, staring in confusion at a small box wrapped in shiny red paper lying on his desk. It was tied with white ribbon, so that it looked a bit like a candy cane.

Ianto popped his head around the corner of the office. Jack had half expected to be met with silence, having assumed that Ianto left early with the others given that it was Boxing Day and the Rift had been exceptionally quiet all afternoon. Ianto did have his coat draped over his arm, so at least he was on his way out before dinner for once. Jack wouldn't have minded him staying, but felt like he couldn't keep Ianto late all the time, especially on holidays.

"You're still here," Jack said rather stupidly. He was glad, though; for some reason, the box on his desk made him nervous, as it had been a while since he had received any sort of present from anyone.

"And you shouted for me, sir?" Ianto returned.

Jack shook himself. "Yes. Do you know what this is?" He gestured rather helplessly at the box on his desk. Ianto stepped inside and pretended to study it very seriously.

"I believe that it may be a Christmas gift," he replied as dryly as Jack had ever heard. Jack huffed at him.

"Is it from you?"

A very inelegant snort escaped Ianto's lips before he covered it with a more polite cough. "No, sir. The slip of paper referred to as a tag should inform you as to its likely origin."

Jack gave him the 'Stop humoring me' look and read the tag.

"It's from Gwen," he said, a note of surprise in his voice.

"Indeed. She placed it there just before she left for the afternoon," Ianto replied. "Anything else you need me to verify for you, sir? Strangely decorated trees or oddly colored lights? I was about to head home."

"What is it?" asked Jack. He even sounded nervous; why, he didn't know. But he didn't want Ianto to leave just yet, for some reason. And it didn't have anything to do with a stopwatch.

"And that would be why we developed the custom of opening wrapped gifts, so that we might discover the surprise within."

Jack bit back an annoyed reply as he shook his head. "Are you always this sarcastic on holidays or just today?"

"Nothing unusual in either," Ianto replied with a small shrug. "I'd suggest you open it before you ask any more embarrassing questions, though."

Jack grumbled under his breath. They weren't embarrassing questions. He just wasn't used to getting gifts from his employees—well, from anyone, really. That Gwen had left him something was even stranger, when he knew perfectly well she was either off with Owen or heading home to Rhys.

Well, not that a simple gift meant all  _that,_  but still. Why would she leave him anything at all? Christmas was over, and he hadn't got her anything. He picked up the box and read the tag.

_"Jack, Happy Christmas. Enjoy a night away from the Hub. Love, Gwen."_

Opening the box, he half expected plane tickets to Majorca or a night at St. David's, but instead he found a generous gift card to a posh restaurant on the Quay. Although he was not one to head out to nice restaurants on his own, it was the thought that counted. It was close by, yet it was still somewhere away from the Hub where he usually slept and ate; it might be nice to get out for once.

"It's for L'Orsino," he said, turning it over in his hand. "How about that." He glanced at Ianto. "Did you know about this?"

"Of course not," the other man replied, sounding surprised. "But since it's not a bomb or some other bit of dangerous alien technology needing to be archived immediately, I really am going home. Good night." He turned to leave, but Jack still wasn't ready to let him go.

"What do I do with it?" he asked, feeling rather stupid again. Ianto smiled as he turned around, almost fondly, like one would with a child. Jack thought it should bother him, but it was better than a lot of Ianto's other looks—the raised eyebrow, the eyeroll, the heavy sigh. At least this smile seemed genuine and not mocking.

"You use it, Jack," he said, the still too rare use of Jack's name something Jack found he liked more and more as Ianto continued to relax around him, however infrequently. "You go out and have a nice meal some night, instead of the rubbish take away we eat too much of around here."

"Want to join me?" Jack blurted, the suddenness of it surprising even him. He knew perfectly well whatever they did at the Hub was completely different than...well, whatever they did away from work. A look of complete shock and surprise crossed Ianto's face before he shook his head.

"No thank you, sir," he replied, reverting back to formal and refusing to meet Jack's eyes. "You're just asking because I happened to be here when you opened it."

"So what?" asked Jack. "I'm glad you were. When was the last time  _you_  had a meal that wasn't take away?"

Ianto cocked his head and seemed to consider; finally, he shrugged. "I'm usually here, eating take away with you."

"Exactly—if we eat together here, we might as well go out and eat together at L'Orsino." Jack gave him a challenging look as he waved the card. "Come on, you know you want to. It's supposed to be good, although it might be fun to time the service. And I do owe you for your car."

"You own me a clean car, not a dinner you don't even have to pay for," Ianto replied, but his lips were quirking.

"I'm having it detailed as we speak," said Jack. "And I'll spring for a good bottle of wine. So come on—we can walk over there, it's close. What do you say?"

"Will you bother me until I say yes?" Ianto asked, and Jack nodded grandly. Ianto sighed. "Then I suppose I'll have to accept. Good thing I like Italian."

"Great!" said Jack. He hurried around his desk, grabbed his wool coat from the nearby hook, and slipped it easily over his shoulders. Ianto was watching him warily.

"You mean right now?" Ianto asked.

"Got better plans?" asked Jack, and Ianto shrugged again.

"Just some left over take away, actually."

Jack took the coat from Ianto's arm and held up it, much like Ianto did for him. There was that eyebrow. Yet Ianto eased himself into the coat and nodded a thank you, and Jack smiled in return, a strange moment passing between them. He was unexpectedly looking forward to having dinner with Ianto.

"This will be better," he said. "Thanks for joining me. I'd much rather share a good meal than eat alone."

"Thank you for inviting me, sir," said Ianto, following him down the stairs toward the door.

"It's Jack," said Jack. "You know I like that better."

Ianto chuckled. "And here I had you pegged as the authoritarian type."

"Only in certain situations, usually involving a stopwatch," Jack winked. He laughed at the look on Ianto's face and backed off. "And this is not that situation, so just call me Jack, please."

"Yes, sir."

"Ianto."

"All right—thank you, Jack."

"My pleasure, Ianto."

As they walked toward the restaurant, Jack wondered at his impulsive choice. Had Gwen meant him to eat alone? Find a date? Take her? Glancing sideways at Ianto, Jack caught his eye and grinned again, deciding he'd made the perfect choice. If anyone else deserved a night out of the hub, it was Ianto Jones. And Jack was looking forward to spending it with him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a reason to write some snark with a bit of spark. Hope you enjoyed it. :)


	4. Snow

IV. Snow (Series 1)

If there was anything Owen hated more than winter in Cardiff, it was snow during winter in Cardiff. Because not only was it cold and wet and messy, but everyone else appeared to love it except for him. From children to adults, the rest of the world seemed to think snow was a gift from heaven, it's pristine whiteness a fluffy blanket of joy sent from above to brighten the dull grey gloominess of winter.

It was enough to make him want to wretch.

Today he settled for an eyeroll as he listened to the Gwen, Tosh, and Ianto laugh about it behind him. He was about ten feet in front of them, head down and tucked against the wind as he tried to ignore them. They were talking about the latest forecast and how much snow they might expect, how long it would last, should they build a snowman on the Plass—

A snowman? Jesus. How much worse could it get?

A hard ball of snow slammed into his neck, dribbling bits of ice down his coat in a way that announced, with no doubt whatsoever, that it could get much worse.

Whirling on the threesome behind him, Owen literally bared his teeth and growled, stopping them cold. They stood frozen to the spot, staring at him as if he'd gone mad.

"Which one of you was it then?" he demanded, but they all shook their heads, eyes wide. Owen almost believed them; the most likely suspect would have been Jack, but Jack was in front of them, brooding on his own, and even Jack couldn't make a snowball curve around like that. Maybe it was some kid nearby…only they were quite alone, the weather having forced most people inside until morning, when they could enjoy the snow under the sun.

Owen turned slowly and continued walking until he felt a second snowball slam against his back. Bending over, he quickly whipped up one of his own and sent it flying toward the unholy trio behind him. They all ducked, however, and glared at him in indignation. As if they were offended.

"What was that for, Owen?" asked Gwen, eyeing him curiously.

"For the two you lot lobbed at me," Owen snapped. "So knock it off or next time it'll be my gun."

Ianto raised one of those damn eyebrows. "Threatening to shoot us hardly seems an appropriate response to…well, whatever's bothering you."

"Then don't toss another snowball at my back, teaboy," Owen replied. "Or that's exactly what's going to happen."

Owen knew he was on edge, but he couldn't help it. It had been over a week since Diane had left, but he still felt lost. She had left him, just like Katie, only Diane had chosen to go: she had not wanted to stay. He couldn't blame her, for she was a woman out of her time, but he had hoped, just a little, that maybe he could have been enough to convince her to try. Only he wasn't, and it hurt.

Not that he let on to it. If he had, they probably wouldn't be pelting him with snowballs, because they'd know he meant what he said about the gun. Well, maybe he wouldn't shoot, but he'd certainly draw. And he did when he felt the third snowball splatter against his backside, coating his arse in wet snow.

He heard Tosh murmur under her breath before he whirled around, gun in hand. She appeared genuinely surprised, as did Gwen. Ianto, however, merely raised that eyebrow again, along with the other this time.

"What's going on, Owen?" asked Gwen, and now she sounded concerned. Owen tried to read their faces: Tosh looked confused, Gwen looked concerned, and Ianto looked like…well, the same he always did. Calm, cool, and collected—at least when he wasn't hiding a robot in the basement.

Owen shook his head of the distracting thought. "Which one of you was it?" he demanded. "Fess up so I can shove your face in the next snow pile."

"We're not doing anything, Owen," said Gwen, using that same voice she used on prisoners, the calm and soothing voice that drove him mad. Owen bit back a groan and glanced at Tosh with a question in his eyes.

"She's right. None of us threw anything. But I thought I saw…" She trailed off, as if it were too ridiculous to mention.

"What, Tosh?" asked Owen, lowering his gun. "What did you see?"

"It looked like a pack of snow just rolled itself up and threw itself at you," she murmured. She realized something and quickly pulled out one of the scanners she always seemed to have with her. "I'm not picking up anything, though."

"Any what?" asked Gwen.

"Aliens, Rift activity, that sort of thing—nothing," said Tosh, shaking her head.

"Probably just kids hiding nearby," said Ianto. His hands were deep in his pockets, and for some reason Owen frowned at that, even though it was a common habit for the man, not to mention cold out.

"Probably," he agreed. "But why don't you walk in front of me this time?"

Ianto shrugged and led the girls onward. Owen glanced behind him, expecting another hit. He did not see Ianto grin at the girls and pull out a small, rectangular object. He did not see Ianto palm it as he made the minute motion of packing a snowball. He did not see the small movement of Ianto's hand, as if tossing it forward…but he did see the snowball coming the moment he turned back around.

Unfortunately, he was too stunned to duck and swore furiously as the snow and ice ran down his chest.

"Jones!" he yelled. He hadn't seen anything, but he knew, somehow, that Ianto was behind it.

And someday, he would get him back.

Especially after he saw Ianto wink at Gwen and Tosh as they hurried to catch up with Jack.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alien tech: the problem and solution to everything in Torchwood fanfiction. ;-)
> 
> And yes, there is a sequel to this one. Owen will have revenge.


	5. Reindeer

V. Reindeer (Series 2)

Ianto paused outside the door to the hub and adjusted his tie. Well, calling it a tie was far too flattering a title: it was more of a crime against fashion, if truth were told. Ianto wondered who in their right mind had designed the hideous piece of silk currently wrapped in a half Windsor around his neck…and cursed whomever had decided the damn things were worth selling, as if the (mostly) good men of Cardiff deserved such punishment at Christmas.

Fortunately, his waistcoat covered most of the ugly tie, so with a deep breath, Ianto straightened his suit jacket as he entered the hub…and stopped short when he caught Gwen, Owen, Tosh and even Jack all standing there staring at him with huge grins on their faces.

He swallowed and raised an eyebrow, going into dry defense mode almost automatically. "Has hell frozen over then?" he asked as he made his was toward the coffee machine as quickly but casually as he could. "Because I can't remember ever being the last one in. And I'm early."

"Special occasion," said Jack.

"Christmas Eve, you know," said Tosh.

"We want to leave early," said Gwen.

"We want to see the damn tie," said Owen. He heard them all bite back a giggle, and with a sigh, Ianto turned around.

"You actually want to do this  _before_  I make your coffee?" he asked, hoping to challenge them. Gwen reached over and picked up a tray from the local coffee shop—four large cups, filled to the brim and steaming hot. Ianto nodded; they had planned it well.

"They're prepared, teaboy," said Owen. "So let's see it."

Ianto sighed; he'd have to win this another way if they'd already picked up coffee for themselves knowing he'd deprive them of caffeine for taking the piss. Then again, he was up for the challenge, so pulling on a mask of confident defiance, he laid his suit coat on a chair and began to unbutton his waistcoat, aware of the look on Jack's face as his fingers trailed slowly over the buttons. He caught Jack's eye and winked.

"Oi! None of that," snapped Owen. "Just the waistcoat, nothing more."

Offering the doctor a small smile, he undid the last button and pulled the waistcoat open to reveal the monstrosity beneath. Tosh actually gasped, Gwen giggled, Jack coughed into his hand, and Owen snorted (though how this was possible no one knew.)

Ianto did a turn, feeling oddly confident as thoughts of revenge began to come to mind, and he even bowed to their mock applause.

"Turn it on," said Owen.

"Oh no," whispered Tosh.

"Owen, you can't," started Gwen. Jack ducked his head again, as if he couldn't handle Ianto's reaction and didn't even want to watch.

Ianto merely shrugged as he slowly and deliberately reached behind the tie and flipped a tiny switch beneath the label. A shiny red nose shone brightly from the reindeer hanging against his black shirt, and it was all he could do to not shut his eyes in complete humiliation. Instead he forced himself to plaster another small smile on his face and meet everyone's eyes.

They all avoided his gaze as they coughed and giggled and snorted. With a nod, Ianto began to button up his waistcoat, although as he looked down, he couldn't help but smile for real this time. It was a hideous tie, and yet…it  _was_  Christmas. Why not leave it? Maybe he could surprise them all by playing it up a bit.

"Reindeer games in the boardroom this afternoon," he said, leaving the waistcoat open and the tie glowing. He grabbed the fourth coffee and turned toward his station. "And no name calling."

Everyone burst out laughing, and Ianto felt a small sense of victory. Owen clapped him on the back before he walked away. "Did Santa bring you a sense of humor for Christmas? I thought you'd be mad as hell."

"Who says I'm not?" asked Ianto.

"You're hiding it well," Owen pointed out.

Ianto shrugged. "At least it's decent silk, even if it does have an incredibly tacky rendering of an imaginary holiday character that lights up embroidered across it."

"I'll have you know it took me months to find that," Owen said. "So get some good wear out of it. All day, Jones—it's payback for last year."

Ianto smiled broadly at Owen. "I'll wear it. And then maybe later I'll let Jack take it off very slowly and tie—"

He didn't even need to finish the sentence before Owen had covered his ears and walked away shouting about not needing to know.

Humming to himself, Ianto turned away again only to walk right into Jack, who reached out to finger the tie and grinned. "Red really is your color."

"That's why I'm wearing it."

"Could be fun in the dark later," Jack continued.

"That's why I'm leaving it on."

"Stop it!" shouted Owen. "Just take it off if you're going to keep making sex jokes about it all day."

Ianto winked as he walked around Jack and began to make a mental list of all the ways he could torture Owen with the doctor's own attempt at retribution. It could be a good day...and an even better night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that I'd put this one up with the other, since they go together. The next one is Owen and Ianto as well…but a bit more serious. And it's dialogue only, so prepare your inner accents.


	6. Christmas Tree

VI. Christmas Tree (Series 2)

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Because Tosh wants a tree for the Hub."

"And the rest of us don't get a say in it?"

"I think it's a great idea, and you know Gwen loves Christmas. What's the problem?"

"Why aren't they the ones out here picking out a tree in the dark and freezing cold?"

"Because it's dark and freezing cold, and Tosh had a program to finish. Besides, it's not like you can feel it."

"Don't rub it in. I'm stuck with you and I don't like it."

"I said I'd do it alone, you know. Feel free to take your inner Scrooge back to the SUV anytime."

"Funny. Why aren't you out here with Jack then? Lots of nice trees for a quick shag."

"We don't shag trees, Owen."

"That's not what I meant."

"That's why I'm ignoring it."

"So why isn't he here? You two have a row or something?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He's busy, that's all."

"Let me guess—he's out shopping for the perfect gift while you're out picking up the perfect tree for your perfect holiday together. How perfectly wretched."

"I doubt it. We're not exchanging gifts."

"Really? Why not? Isn't that what couples do?"

"We're not a couple, are we?"

"You eat, sleep, shag, and work together."

"So?"

"So you're not even exchanging gifts as friends with major benefits?"

"And what would you get a man like him?"

"Not my question to answer, Jones. You're the expert."

"No one is an expert on Jack. Not even Jack."

"I don't know, you seem to know him pretty well. It pains me to say it, but sometimes you two look…well…good together. Even happy."

"Er, thanks. I think."

"I mean it. You act like you're together, so you may as well call it what it is."

"And the minute we do, it all disappears."

"What do you mean?"

"It's Torchwood, Owen. And it's Jack. Torchwood agents die young, and he'll live forever."

"So…as long as you don't call it anything, you can ignore all that other stuff?"

"Exactly."

"You know, for such a smart bloke, you can be pretty thick sometimes, Ianto."

"Yes, well, we all make mistakes. Apparently one of mine was coming out here with you."

"I'm serious. You can't just pretend it's nothing because you're afraid of the future."

"We're not afraid of the future, Owen. We just prefer to live in the present."

"If you say so."

"I do."

"You don't sound convinced, though."

"Well, there's not much of a choice, is there? It is what it is."

"And what is it?"

"Owen, we're here for a Christmas tree, not a therapy session."

"Why, do you need therapy?"

"No. Now pick a tree already so you can stop awkwardly pretending to actually care."

"How about that one? And what do you know, maybe I do."

"You do what?"

"Maybe I care."

"Maybe reindeer can really fly."

"Ianto, I'm not always a cold-hearted bastard."

"Just most of the time?"

"Most of the time, yes. But for Christ's sake, it's Christmas. At least get the man a new pair of braces or something."

"I appreciate the advice, Owen, but I hope you'll forgive me for not taking it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's none of your business, for one."

"So?"

"And Jack has plenty of braces, most of which are tangled up in a knot in a drawer next to my bed."

"I did not need to know that, Jones."

"Do you have some sort of braces phobia?"

"No, but if you're sharing domestic details like that, who knows what'll be next."

"Oh, I could tell you all sorts of things about those braces—"

"But you won't."

"If you stop giving out advice."

"Deal."

"Now let's get this tree back to the Hub before I have to start fending you off with stories about Jack's belts."

"Fine. I'm done pointing out the obvious and pretending to care."

"Good."

"Great."

"Owen?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Coming out to pick up the tree."

"Right."

"And for not always being a cold-hearted bastard."

"Yeah, well…you're welcome."

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you will miss the eye rolls and raised eyebrows, not to mention the thoughtful glances and small smiles implied by the narrative. But sometimes one of these dialogue-only things pops out of me because I hear things so clearly in my head. So no apologies. I'm just surprised it was Owen and Ianto and not Ianto and Jack. Thanks for giving it a try!


	7. Christmas Songs

VII. Christmas Songs (Series 1)

"Ianto!" Tosh called. "Come sit down. We're having a team moment."

She smiled at the look of skepticism on his face and jumped up to take his arm, guiding him toward the sofa in the Hub in spite of the reluctance she could almost feel in his stance. "I was just on my way upstairs—" he started, but she cut him off.

"It can wait a few minutes, right? I have a feeling you'll be good at this."

"Tosh—" he tried again, but Gwen leaned forward and smiled her gap-toothed grin at the poor Welshman.

"She's right," Gwen said. "I bet you can peg us all."

Owen snorted as Ianto's eyebrows flew up. "Peg what?"

"We're trying to guess everyone's favorite Christmas songs," said Tosh, as if that explained it perfectly. Ianto's eyebrows rose even higher.

"And how do I figure into this?" he asked.

"You know everything around here, as you've pointed out several times," Tosh said, smiling again. "So can you guess my favorite song?"

Ianto stared at her for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to bypass their little game and continue to the tourist office, or stay and try his hand at it. Finally he cocked his head to the side, narrowed his eyes a bit, and said, " _White Christmas_. Because you like snow, you like Christmas, and you love the movie."

Tosh felt the smile fall off her face in surprise at his spot-on insight before she grinned and clapped her hands. Yet of course he had known; they'd talked about old holiday movies last time they'd gone out for dinner. "You're exactly right. I knew you could do it. Now try Gwen."

Ianto sighed and turned to Gwen, looking for all the world as if he were reluctantly trying to read her mind and not particularly enjoying it. Gwen squirmed a bit under his thoughtful gaze, until he finally nodded and sat back with his arms over his chest. " _The Christmas Song_ ," he said, and Gwen gave him a wide-eyed look. "Nat King Cole." Owen snorted again.

"You must have been listening while we were talking earlier. No way you could get them both."

Tosh shook her head. "I told you he would get it. What about Owen?"

"That's harder," said Ianto with a thoughtful shake of his head, but Tosh saw the almost fiendish glint in his eye now. "Something more modern, slightly irreverent… _I Want an Alien For Christmas_ , perhaps."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, as if that's even a real song."

"1997," replied Ianto in that dry, matter-of-fact way he had that Tosh enjoyed so much. "Fountains of Rain and dumb as hell."

"Try again, teaboy."

Ianto narrowed his eyes and now it was Owen's turn to squirm. Ianto must have been reading their minds, because suddenly he grinned bigger than Tosh had seen him grin in ages. "Wham.  _Last Christmas."_

Owen swore. "You're a prick, you know that? So what about Jack? What's his favorite song?"

Tosh watched Ianto frown in confusion. "Jack? How should I know. He's not even here."

"You got the rest of us," said Gwen. "And we can't agree on Jack. I think he'd prefer something like  _Baby, It's Cold Outside._  It's his style, you know? Fun and flirty and a bit old-fashioned."

Ianto just nodded and glanced at Tosh. "I went for  _Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer_ , because you have to admit—he can be a bit of a kid at heart sometimes. Plus they're both leaders who stand out from the others."

"And I think he probably hates Christmas music," said Owen. "Because god knows most of it is complete rubbish."

"But if he didn't?" pressed Tosh, and Owen huffed.

"Then I'm going with  _Jingle Bells_  because I can't think of anything else, and no matter where or when he's from, I'm sure they are singing that damn song anywhere and everywhere."

Ianto had ducked his head down, but Tosh was fairly certain she saw him hiding a smile. Did he know, then? Or had one of them got it?

"So what do you think, Ianto?" she asked, nudging him with a smile. Ianto glanced up and his eyes went wide. Tosh followed his gaze to find that Jack was standing nearby, leaning against a pole and listening to them. How long he had been there, she didn't know, but Ianto was definitely hiding a smile now as he glanced away.

"So you're trying to guess my favorite Christmas song?" asked Jack. "Why not just ask me?"

"Apparently this is more interesting," Owen said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "At least according to the girls here."

"Owen!" said Tosh, but Gwen laughed.

"We're just having a bit of fun, Jack. Especially since we can't agree on one."

Jack tucked his hands into his pockets as he sauntered over. "What are the choices?" he asked.

" _Baby, It's Cold Outside_ ," said Tosh. " _Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer_ , and  _Jingle Bells_."

Jack nodded. "All right, not bad. That's only three—who hasn't gone yet?" Obviously he hadn't been standing there for long.

"That would be me, sir," said Ianto. Tosh frowned, because the Welshman was still suppressing a small, now slightly embarrassed smile. What was so funny? Did he and Jack have some sort of private joke? About Christmas music?

"Ah, Ianto," nodded Jack. "The man who knows everything around here. So, what's your guess? Think you can get it?"

Ianto finally met Jack's eyes and held them. " _Stille Nacht_ ," he replied softly. For a moment Tosh thought she saw Jack's normally confident mask crack, at least just a bit around the eyes. But it was a fleeting moment, and then he was smiling, even if it seemed a bit forced.

"Right as always," Jack murmured. "You really do know everything, don't you, Ianto Jones?" He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself as he walked away without another word. The others were quiet for a moment, then turned to stare at Ianto, who was watching Jack with a thoughtful look on his face.

"How the hell did you know that?" demanded Owen. "That is the last song I would have picked for Jack 'I don't do Christmas' Harkness."

Ianto shrugged as he stood up and adjusted his suit coat. "Like I've said, I know everything," he answered simply.

"Bullshit," said Owen, though he said it lightly. "How did you know that?"

The corners of Ianto's lips quirked up, just barely noticeable. "He was singing it in the sho…office this…last night," he replied, coughing to hide what could have been an inadvertent and very embarrassing slip. Gwen didn't seem to notice and Owen just snorted. But Tosh frowned and glanced up at Ianto with a questioning look.

He in turn gazed down at her with a small smile…then winked before he turned to leave.

It was all Tosh could do to hold back a gasp. She glanced at Gwen and Owen, but they hadn't seen it and didn't appear to have drawn any conclusions whatsoever from Ianto's answer. She, however, was fairly certain that Ianto had just given up the game, however unintentionally...or not.

"Ianto!" she called after him. "What's your favorite song?"

He cocked his head to the side. "You'll have to guess. Coffee to go for whomever gets it right."

Somehow Tosh had a feeling the best one who had a chance of getting it right would be Jack. And that, she decided, after the year they'd all had, was a very good thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Ianto doesn't make his big declaration about knowing everything until series 2, but he certainly knew enough series 1 to make the claim. He's a smart guy. Why do you think so many of these are about him, after all? I'll try to branch out, but he is my favorite. As for his song…ask Jack. And as for Jack's song...ask Ianto. ;-)


	8. Fairy Lights

VIII. Fairy Lights (Series 2)

"I like them," said Jack, admiring the view of the Hub. He punched a few buttons on his wrist strap and all the main lights went out, leaving only the twinkling fairy lights wrapped around various railings. "Ah, that's nice. So where did you get them?"

Ianto leaned against the nearest support, casually sipping a new cup of coffee. "Came across them in the archive, actually."

Jack turned in surprise. "Really? Fairy lights in the archives?" He glanced around the Hub with a slight frown. "Are they alien?"

"Yep," said Ianto, holding back a grin as best as he could.

"Seriously?"

Ianto shrugged. "Found them in a box when I was going through an overstuffed closet."

"How do you know they're alien then?" asked Jack.

"There was actually a tag," said Ianto. He took another sip to hide his smile. "Apparently they're like…well, a bit like mood lights." Jack gave him a raised eyebrow. "Some sort of telepathic technology—the color cues to the mood of whomever is broadcasting the strongest psychic signal."

Jack narrowed his eyes as if he wasn't quite sure whether to believe him. Ianto shrugged. "They've been red and white since I put them up, but then, red is my color."

At that moment the alarm went off and Gwen came bounding through, stopping as soon as she saw them standing in the dark admiring the lights. "Oh, Ianto!" she exclaimed. "They're lovely! I'm so glad you decided to use them."

Ianto swallowed his coffee with a slight cough. "Yes, well, I was just telling Jack how I found them in the archives."

He turned away from Jack and gave her a very pointed look; surprisingly, she got it and didn't blather on for once. Then again, he had mentioned that he'd had a few ideas for the lights. "Right. What was it you told me yesterday?" she asked, catching on quite quick.

"They change color according to mood. Apparently I am festive."

Gwen grinned. "I bet you are. But how does it work with multiple people in the room?"

"I'm not sure," Ianto replied. "The tag said something about how the strongest mood in the room would have the strongest influence over the color of the lights."

"Makes sense. So when Owen arrives they'll all go black?" she teased, and Ianto grinned.

"Something like that."

"And Tosh…I bet Tosh is a silver and gold kind of girl," Gwen continued.

"What about you?" asked Jack, arms folded across his chest as he turned toward Gwen "Why don't you try and change it? Let us see what color you are."

"I don't think I could," Gwen laughed. "I like red and white too much! It's like living inside a candy cane."

Ianto winked at Gwen before turning back to Jack and stepping a little closer. He set his mug down on a nearby table and reached out to brush his fingers across Jack's lower back, resting his hand on Jack's hip for a moment. He felt the other man immediately respond with a twitch and move closer.

"Why don't you try?" Ianto murmured, stepping closer still, so that he was side by side with Jack, legs touching, bodies flush against one another. He unwound his arm from around Jack's waist and let his hand trace patterns down the front of Jack's leg, earning him a surprised look from Jack.

"Ianto," Jack said, his voice low. "We're not alone."

"We're not doing anything, either," said Ianto, his voice equally as low and slightly teasing. He was fairly sure he heard an intake of breath behind them, followed by a giggle and hasty footsteps hurrying away up the stairs.

Ianto glanced over his shoulder and caught Gwen heading into the hot house, eyes wide. He gave her another grin and a wink, and she covered her mouth to avoid laughing. She had probably guessed what Ianto was doing, and fortunately, she was letting him do it.

Ianto stepped behind Jack and wrapped his arms around the man's waist, letting them move a bit lower before roaming up and down his chest. He pressed a few soft kisses at the base of Jack's neck and whispered into his ear.

"Change the lights, Jack. What color is this?" He flickered his tongue around Jack's ear and sucked a soft love bite on Jack's neck even as he let his hands move down toward Jack's thighs for a gentle grope. Jack's breath increased, and Ianto somehow knew that Jack had closed his eyes.

"Blue," he murmured, and Ianto let one hand slip away to the remote in his pocket. He flicked the switch twice and the lights slowly changed to a soft blue and white glow. It was all he could do to contain his own laughter as he glanced up and saw Gwen in the hothouse, doubled over and giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Very good, Jack," said Ianto, stepping away. Jack opened his eyes and gasped, probably as much as from the sudden lack of contact as from the change of color.

"I thought you were taking the piss," Jack murmured, gazing around the blue Hub in awe.

Ianto almost wanted to tell Jack he was right, it was a trick, but then Owen walked in, and Ianto thought maybe, just maybe, he could pull it off again.

Without the snuggling of course.

Offering a silent thank you to Gwen and the extra strings of remote control lights she had brought in to decorate the Hub with, Ianto turned toward Owen with a grin on his face while Jack continued to stare at the lights in wonder.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Ianto has a playful side. And although I wrote this two years ago, now I'm wondering if Jack ever found out...


	9. Christmas Panto

IX. Christmas Panto (Series 2)

"I hate these things," grumbled Rhys. "Never liked 'em as a kid, and I doubt I'll like it any more now that I'm old enough to go on my own."

"It'll be fun," Gwen said, linking her arm in his. "It's free tickets, after all. And we can go for a drink afterwards. I've got the entire night off, remember?"

Rhys shrugged in response. He was glad to have the rare night to spend with his wife, so he couldn't really complain, even if they were at a bloody Christmas panto. They entered the theatre still arm in arm. The lobby was crowded, but to Rhys's surprise, Gwen spotted one of her coworkers across the way and dragged Rhys toward her. It was the Asian woman—Tosh, was it? To his even bigger surprise, the tall, slim bloke—Ianto, good Welsh name—hurried up then, slightly out of breath.

"Sorry it took me so long, couldn't find a place to park," he said, then noticed Gwen and Rhys. He smiled and held out his hand, reintroducing himself. He had a good firm handshake and Rhys found he liked Ianto more each time they met; he seemed the most down to earth of them all. "Good to see you again, Rhys. Guess Jack had more than two tickets, then."

"I wonder if Owen is coming?" Gwen wondered. Owen…that was the doctor. But hadn't she said he was dead? In a zombie sort of way? Could zombies even go to the theatre? He'd been at the wedding, but he'd been working on Gwen's alien pregnancy then.

"Yeah, yeah—he's here," grumbled a voice behind them, and Rhys turned to find a very pale man standing there looking extremely sulky. He still seemed perfectly alive, though there was definitely something off about him now that Rhys knew more. He shook the doctor's hand; it was ice cold.

"Glad you could make it, Owen," said Tosh from where she was standing next to Ianto. Rhys noticed a warm tone to her voice and wondered about it, trying to remember what Gwen had told him from the office gossip amongst her small group of coworkers. Owen was dead, but Tosh had been interested in him for a while, it seemed. Yet she had clearly arrived with Ianto, and Rhys was pretty sure Gwen had said they all knew the Welshman was shagging Jack again, especially after dancing together at the wedding.

Complicated.

"Where's Jack, then?" asked Rhys. "Everyone's here but your big damn hero."

Owen snorted; Rhys guessed that was a typical reaction as no one paid him much attention. In fact, they all looked at Ianto. That's right, he was their general support; Gwen had said Ianto knew everything. And if he was shagging Jack, then he'd certainly know where Jack was, wouldn't he?

Ianto just shrugged. "Said he had an important call with Archie up at Torchwood Two." The man sounded slightly skeptical; Rhys wondered if Ianto was upset that Jack might be lying. Certainly he'd hated Gwen keeping secrets from him about Torchwood for so long.

"You don't believe him, do you?" he asked, and to his surprise, Ianto grinned.

"Of course not. He's planning something, so the best thing is to just leave him alone. He pouts if you call him out on those things."

"Too much information, teaboy," muttered Owen, and Rhys waited for Ianto's reaction to the name calling.

"I'm simply speaking as his PA," Ianto replied evenly. "There was nothing scheduled with Archie, and you know as well as I do if that if Jack gets it into his mind to do something, there's no stopping him from doing it."

"I thought you'd have that under control by now," Owen said. "Jack should be your bitch considering how much you do for him."

"Owen!" Tosh exclaimed, but Ianto shook his head with a short laugh. Gwen had told Rhys about the unique dynamics among the team—the teasing, the banter, the love and hate, push and pull. He wondered what he was about to see from them, especially outside of work.

"What? I'm just calling it like I see it," Owen replied stubbornly. "We all know who's really in charge."

"Since when did you become such a fan of Ianto?" Gwen teased.

"I'm not and never will be. I'll leave that to Jack."

"And I'll thank you to leave it to Jack," murmured Ianto.

"Don't want to know," Owen said.

"Not going to tell," Ianto parroted back in the same tone. Rhys shook his head: it was almost as bad as he'd imagined.

"You lot are like a group of bloody school girls. Come on, let's find our seats before they lock us out."

"I actually like that idea, Rhys," said Owen, clapping him on the back. "We can tell Jack we were late and missed it because they locked us out."

"Come on," said Tosh, dragging both Owen and Ianto inside. Gwen laughed as she walked in with Rhys.

Rhys had to admit they weren't a bad group; they had saved his wedding, after all. He was surprised to find that it was actually a bit odd without Jack's towering presence. The others didn't seem to mind, however, so he sat back and enjoyed as much of the panto as he could…until suddenly Gwen tensed next to him.

"Ianto," she hissed under her breath. The normally unflappable Welshman was sitting on the other side of her, leaning forward with a slightly stunned look on his face. "That's not—"

Ianto shook his head very slowly. Rhys followed their line of sight toward the stage; to be honest, he had closed his eyes for a moment and had probably drifted off. As he glanced back at the show, he thought he knew what they were staring at.

"Nah, can't be," he whispered. Gwen looked at him with wide-eyes. Toshiko was frowning in confusion on Rhys's right side.

"But it looks just like him," she said.

"Jack Harkness, doing a holiday panto?" asked Rhys. He stifled a laugh, but the other four team members were still staring at the stage with their mouths half open. "Seriously? You think that's really him?"

"Or the perfect doppelganger," said Tosh.

"Alien imposter," added Gwen.

"Evil twin," Owen said from the end of their row. "Because I say leave it to Jack to have an evil twin, and one in a dress, no less."

"You don't think this is why we gave us the tickets, is it?" Gwen whispered to Ianto. The other man shook his head.

"If it is, I'm going to kill him for not telling us," Ianto murmured back. "We could have prepared ourselves for the shock."

The actor on stage really did look remarkably like Jack Harkness. Never mind he was in drag and dancing a can-can; the man could have been Harkness's twin brother. Then he started to sing.

"It's not Jack," said Ianto, sinking back into his chair and relaxing his grip on the arm rests.

"How do you know?" asked Rhys. People around them were starting to shoot them looks for talking, but Rhys ignored them; it wasn't every day you ran into such a spectacular case of mistaken identity, after all.

"Jack's more of a tenor, not a baritone," Ianto said. "He sounds nothing like that, and the accent is wrong too." Ianto actually seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

"What, can't handle shagging a panto queen?" Owen supplied from down the row, leaning over Tosh to deliver his message.

Ianto rolled his eyes, but it was Gwen who answered. "He can handle an immortal time traveler from the future, Owen. I think he can handle a two-bit singer and dancer in a lipstick and a dress."

"Sure looks like Jack, though," said Owen. "Now you know where to find a spare if he ever runs off again."

Tosh sucked in a gasp, and Gwen shook her head, eyes flashing. Ianto stared at Owen until the doctor looked away; Rhys was pretty sure the Welshman mouthed something extremely vulgar, but seeing as he was sitting in the middle of them and had no desire to get involved, he just concentrated on staring straight ahead and ignoring the tension around him.

An usher showed up then and asked them to be quiet or leave. They apologized profusely and watched the rest of the show in silence. Rhys was fairly certain he fell asleep again, waking only when the audience joined in to participate.

When the show was over, they filed out with the audience into the lobby and then into the cold night. And to their surprise, Jack was standing there on the pavement, hands in his pockets, waiting for them not far from the exit.

"Hey, kids, how was the show?" he asked with a grin. His hair seemed a bit more mussed up than Rhys remembered, but it was rather windy.

The four Torchwood members all stared at their boss, then at each other. Rhys rolled his eyes and finally stepped forward, holding out his hand.

"Thanks for the tickets, mate. It was a good show. Too bad you missed it." Jack didn't need to know he'd fallen asleep twice.

Jack slowly shook his hand, watching the team warily. "Why do they look like they've seen a ghost?"

"They reckon they did," said Rhys with a shrug. "Or rather—what did they call it? A doppelganger."

"Ah," said Jack, nodding as if he understood. "They do say everyone has a twin out there somewhere. Who was it then?"

No one answered so Jack looked to Rhys again. Rhys sighed; this was not his thing to be getting involved with. He'd just wanted to spend the night with Gwen, not the entire team, and certainly not as the one dealing with this strange situation hanging over them.

"Bloke playing the dame on stage looked just like you," Rhys finally answered when no one else spoke. "I can't picture you singing and dancing in a dress, but this lot's gone a bit funny because of it."

Jack turned toward his team, eyebrow raised as a grin played at his lips. "I have done some stagework before, and I've even worn a dress, but I've never done a panto. So rest assured, it wasn't me. I was on the phone with Archie, and you know how he talks."

Ianto nodded as if he understood but wasn't completely convinced. Gwen was silent and Owen was pulling faces at Ianto for some reason, earning some fairly venomous glares in return. Tosh glanced around at them all and cleared her throat.

"Do you sing?" she asked, turning toward Jack.

"A bit," Jack replied slowly.

"Tenor or baritone?" she asked.

"Probably a tenor."

"I told you he was more of a tenor," Ianto murmured, and Jack grinned.

"Yeah, but Ianto knows how to bring out my falsetto."

Owen groaned while Ianto rolled his eyes. Tosh smiled and Gwen seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. And yet they all still seemed spooked.

"This needs a drink," Rhys announced. "I think there's a pub around the corner. First round on me, all right? Get you calmed down a bit."

There were quick agreements all around. Jack motioned them forward and stayed back to walk with Ianto. Rhys glanced over his shoulder and caught them whispering. There was broad grin from Jack, and a raised eyebrow from Ianto. Then Ianto stepped closer to wipe something from Jack's face, tucking his hair into place as well, and Rhys frowned.

Jack glanced up before he could look away and gave him a wink. Rhys turned back quickly, suddenly unsure of what he had seen that night. Jack had said he'd never done panto, but Rhys knew enough from Gwen that Jack kept his secrets close. Yet surely the leader of Torchwood Three didn't moonlight in amateur theater…did he? Rhys would find it easier to believe Jack Harkness had an evil twin; that seemed far more Torchwood than doing panto, for sure.

All he knew for certain was that he'd never see another panto again, free tickets or not. It was not his thing.

A snatch of familiar song from behind him confirmed it, and he hurried toward the pub, definitely needing a pint of beer to clear the air.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally ridiculous, I know. And not really a drabble, either. Props if you can guess the inspiration behind it. ;)


	10. Secret Santa

X. Secret Santa (Series 1)

Of course it had been Gwen who had wanted to organize a Secret Santa gift exchange. Owen had griped and Ianto had rolled his eyes, while Tosh had looked cautiously interested. It wasn't something they'd done before, at least since Jack had taken over leadership, but he had eventually given in; it had been a hard six months, and the team could probably use some holiday cheer. God knew he wasn't one to think of those kinds of things and actually preferred to stay out of them.

Gwen had made a case for it, though, and she had been so excited and sincere that he couldn't say no. Of course, she'd had that affect on him since she had started, and he tried to keep her in line, yet sometimes…Jack shook his head as they all left the meeting, names for the exchange in hand. He was getting somewhat tired of his and Gwen's push and pull, the flirting that felt like more than flirting but would never be anything more; too often it felt like a power struggle, and that was not why he had brought her onto the team. So although he thought the gift exchange might be good for everyone, Jack couldn't help but wish someone else had come to him with the idea rather than Gwen.

He himself had stood down, offering instead to treat them all to dinner at St. David's for the exchange itself. That would be his contribution to team morale. Gwen had looked disappointed, and Jack had put aside the nagging feeling that she might have rigged the exchange if he had participated. Whether she wanted something from him or had wanted to give him something in particular, he didn't know and didn't want to find out. Frankly, he had other things…other people…on his mind now. That was his holiday cheer: flirting that  _had_  become more, stolen moments he found he was looking forward to more and more as the days and weeks went by.

And so before things got crazy—there was a large Rift spike predicted for the following day, one that would be dropping an airplane in their laps for the holiday—they all headed to St. David's, where Jack had reserved a table for five with several bottles of wine set in the center and ready to be served.

It did not take long for the team to relax—even Owen, who had seemed so against the idea. The girls sipped wine and laughed at something Ianto was saying over his cocktail. Jack found his gaze drawn to the Welshman, who glanced up and caught his eye. They exchanged a smile, and Jack found himself unexpectedly thinking about Ianto and what he was doing for the holidays—if he had Christmas plans with his family, if he had a date for New Year's. Jack idly wondered if there would be any time for them to spend together, and not just in—

His thoughts were interrupted by Gwen setting her glass down with a purpose. "How about we open our gifts before the food comes?"

"You're so impatient," said Owen. He signaled the server for another beer. "Like a kid in a candy store, you are."

"I can't help it," she laughed. "I love Christmas."

"Then by all means you start," Owen said, sitting back and crossing his arms.

The gifts had been placed in the middle of the table with the wine. As per Gwen's rather unusual rules, everyone had wrapped their parcels in the same paper and given them to Jack earlier that day. Finding the one with her name on it, she ripped it open to find a beautiful red silk scarf. She exclaimed over it and draped it around her neck; apparently she had admired it in one of the shop windows on the quay last week while out for lunch. It looked quite nice on her, and Jack had to commend whoever had picked it out not only for good taste, but for remembering something Gwen had seen and liked. Probably Ianto, because he was thoughtful like that and had a real eye for clothing.

"Owen, you're next," Gwen said, sitting back with a content smile.

Owen rolled his eyes and reached for a large box on the table. He too simply ripped off the paper and dug inside; apparently he was just as impatient as Gwen. He pulled out a set of six beer glasses and a six-pack of an expensive IPA. Nodding in appreciation, he glanced over at Ianto.

"Thanks, mate," he said with a grin. "It's perfect."

Ianto raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think we were guessing," he said. He finished his martini and set it down with a smile. "But you're welcome."

"How'd you know I liked this one?" Owen asked, reading the label. He looked sorely tempted to open a bottle, even with free wine and beer on Jack.

"You ordered it last week at the pub. It's a limited holiday edition so I figured I'd better snap it up." He paused as he poured himself a glass of wine. "The glasses are for the touch of class I imagine your flat could sorely use. I should have got some napkins too, I suppose."

Owen snorted. "Whatever, teaboy. Stop taking the piss and maybe I'll have you 'round to try one. Thanks again."

"I'll look forward to it." Ianto glanced away and caught Jack's eye again. Jack was impressed. Owen and Ianto did not always get along, and yet Ianto had taken the time to notice something about the doctor and get him something the man would appreciate and even enjoy. Owen, in turn, had actually offered to share it with Ianto; maybe there was something to this exchange after all.

"Go ahead, Ianto," said Gwen, nodding toward the center of the table. "Open yours next."

Ianto took a deep breath and reached for his gift. It was a long thin box, and Jack was fairly certain they all knew what was in it. They were not prepared, however, for the sight of it once Ianto unwrapped the box and opened the lid.

It was quite possibly one of the most hideous ties ever.

Ianto held it up, speechless. The entire table was quiet. After two much appreciated gifts, it was as if someone had dropped a bomb on the exchange. It was all Jack could do to not laugh at the look on Ianto's face as he stared at the red and green plaid tie before him.

"Well," Ianto said dryly. "I certainly don't have one like that." Jack let a snort escape and Ianto fired him a look. Owen looked skeptical while Tosh actually appeared a bit worried. Gwen frowned.

"I like it," she said, and Jack noted the slightly defensive note to her voice.

"And I do too," Ianto replied smoothly. He reached over to take her hand and squeezed it, having apparently heard it as well. "It can be my Torchwood Two tie, next time I'm up in Glasgow."

"Next time?" asked Owen with a snort. "Ever been there?"

Ianto shook his head, his composure back under control. "No, but now I have something to wear when I brave it." He smiled at Gwen. "Thank you. Really."

Gwen narrowed her eyes at Ianto before squeezing back with a smile. "Well, I thought it would make a nice holiday tie, since you don't seem to have one, but check the box," she said. "There's more."

"Uh-oh," Ianto murmured, apparently unable to stop himself. Jack was thrilled to see the man turn slightly red around the collar at his impolite slip.

Ianto pulled a small card out of the box and read it, his eyes going wide. "Thank you, Gwen. That…that's amazing."

She reached over and plucked the tie out of Ianto's hands as she examined it. "I hope you like it better. I won't tell Rhys what you think of his choice of neckwear, since he helped me pick this one out."

Ianto shook his head and laughed as the others watched them, confused.

"Care to explain?" Jack asked, and Ianto smiled at them all, holding up the card.

"A custom hand-made Italian silk tie on order from Alessio's, the new men's shop over at the Hayes." He grinned like a man who had won the races. "Brilliant. Their clothes are fantastic. I can't wait to pick it up and browse."

"I've heard you gush about it," said Gwen. She fingered the hideous plaid tie. "I can't say I'm surprised you don't like this one, but I didn't want to give you an empty box." She glanced up and grinned. "Your reaction was fun, though."

"It was a good reaction," Jack agreed. Ianto rolled his eyes at everyone's amusement and tried to change the subject.

"Go on, Tosh," he said. "Your turn."

Tosh took her gift from the center of the table, though that still left one last present. Jack wondered what it might be, since there shouldn't be any more, but instead focused on Tosh. She held a small box in her hands, the type that usually held jewelry. When she opened it, she gasped and shut it immediately, her face instantly red. Jack sensed Owen shift uncomfortably beside him.

"What's wrong, Tosh?" asked Gwen, sounding concerned. "What is it?"

Tosh took a deep breath and opened the box again. "It's beautiful," she murmured, and Jack thought that maybe her voice caught just a bit. With a watery smile, she turned the box around to show them all a set of small cloisonné earrings in the shape of mistletoe with a matching pendant. The berries were tiny red crystals that sparkled in the dim light of the restaurant. Everyone nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you, Owen," said Tosh softly, meeting the doctor's eyes with a heartfelt smile. Owen shrugged it off, obviously still uncomfortable.

"Well, you're welcome. Hope you like 'em."

"I love them," she said. "They're perfect. Thank you for remembering."

And then Jack remembered something Tosh had said out in the country, about kissing Owen under the mistletoe last Christmas. Which meant that Owen of all people had also put some thought into his gift. Tosh was obviously touched, and Jack couldn't help but nod approvingly at his team; they had done him proud. Not that they didn't make him proud in the field or at work, but here, when given the chance to offer a personal gift to one another, they had truly stepped up and delivered the Christmas spirit. Maybe they were finally becoming a team, after all.

"There's still one more gift," said Tosh. Gwen reached toward it and read the tag.

"It's for Jack." She handed it to him, and he took it with a slight frown. He hadn't gone in on the exchange, preferring instead to treat the team to dinner. And yet a small shiver of anticipation ran through him as he eagerly tore off the paper. Before he opened the box, however, he glanced at everyone in turn, trying to guess who might have given it to him. Probably Gwen, as it had been her idea, and she'd been disappointed when he had decided not to participate. Now slightly anxious about what she might have given him, he opened the box and felt his mouth drop open.

He followed it with a wide-eyed look across the table, a soft laugh, and a shake of his head. Closing the box, Jack grinned at his team. "Thank you, whoever my Secret Santa is."

"What is it, Jack?" asked Gwen, looking around the table as if trying to figure out not only what it was, but who it was from. Yet no one was giving up the game, that was for sure. Tosh looked just as confused as Gwen, Owen appeared indifferent, and Ianto coolly sipped his wine. Jack caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. Ianto allowed the barest hint of a smile to grace his lips.

Jack took the gift from the box. "It's a stopwatch," he said, pulling an exquisite watch on a beautiful gold chain from the box. Actually, it looked remarkably familiar, only in much better shape than the last time he had seen it. Examining it closely and finding it to be  _exactly_  the same as the one that had been recently broken, he laughed as he glanced up at Ianto again. The Welshman was positively grinning now, his eyes sparkling mischievously, yet no one else seemed to notice it.

"Who's it from?" asked Tosh, and Jack shrugged as casually as he could even though it was quite obvious to him.

"One of you, I assume."

"Wasn't me," said Owen almost immediately. "Ianto's the one with the stopwatch fetish."

Ianto raised an eyebrow as he set down his wine. "I like to be prepared," he said dryly. "However, I don't tend to give people gifts based on my own fetishes. That would be selfish."

"It wasn't me," said Tosh, and they all looked at Gwen. Jack had eyes only for Ianto, though.

"I didn't get it either," Gwen said, still sounding puzzled. "But it's lovely. You deserve it for letting us do this and for treating us to a wonderful night out." She raised her glass, and the others followed. "Happy Christmas, everyone. And thank you to my Secret Santa."

"You mean you haven't figured it out?" drawled Owen. It was fairly obvious, but then sometimes Gwen didn't pay attention to the obvious, because she was either trying to see something that wasn't there, or stubbornly seeing only what she wanted to see, instead.

Gwen was silent for a moment. "Tosh!" she suddenly exclaimed, and the Asian woman laughed as Gwen hugged her. They finished their toast just as their meal arrived.

Jack wished he were sitting closer to Ianto. It was hard flirting across the table without it being obvious, and he desperately wanted to touch the man, somehow, somewhere. He also wished he had got Ianto a gift as well. Then again, he was fairly certain the stopwatch was not only for his pleasure. In fact, the hotel key hidden underneath just about guaranteed it. Jack hadn't let the rest of the team see that; oh no, that was for his eyes only…and he couldn't wait to use it.

It would be a long wait, though. They ate slowly, ordering more wine and dessert and even coffee. And then finally Jack settled the check and walked them all out through the lobby. Ianto waved good-bye and slipped away to use the loo. With a kiss to Tosh's forehead and a handshake from Owen, Jack piled them into cabs for the ride home. Then he hugged Gwen and sent her toward the car where Rhys was sitting, waving at the man with a grin. Yet when he turned to head back into the hotel, Gwen asked him where he was going.

"Forgot my stopwatch," Jack replied with a wink. He motioned her toward the car. "Go on, I'll be fine on my own. Have a good night."

"Thanks for dinner, Jack," she said, sounding reluctant to leave, and he nodded. He hurried back into the hotel, ignoring her eyes on his back and making his way to the restaurant, where he found Ianto sitting at the bar with a scotch. A second glass sat beside him, a white napkin underneath, and Jack took it up, sipping the amber liquid and glancing at the napkin.

"Room 628, huh?" said Jack, holding it up. He pulled out the room key from his pocket and grinned. "Would that be what this is for?" Ianto glanced sideways at him.

"Yep."

"Tonight?"

"Got the stopwatch?"

"Yep."

They both kicked back their drinks, and with a smile Ianto headed toward the elevator. Jack followed, more glad than ever that he had let Gwen organize the Secret Santa exchange, because he was about to get the best gift of the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then much smut happened in room 628. The End.


	11. Christmas Pudding

XI. Christmas Pudding

Gwen set down her wine glass, relieved when it didn't fall over as she was fairly certain she'd set it on a wet tea towel soaking up spilled cream. Really, the kitchen was a bit of a mess, and she was surprised that Ianto wasn't pecking like a hen about keeping it cleaner. Then again, the empty bottle of Vinho Verde on the counter in the center of the disaster most likely spoke to his more relaxed attitude; the half empty bottle of Rioja—hm, probably not a good idea to mix and match, but what the hell, it was a good Spanish wine and that was close to Portugal—would hopefully help when it came time to tackle the epic cleanup.

Frankly, Gwen was just surprised in general. She was surprised that Ianto had invited her over, was surprised he could cook, and was surprised—no, shocked—that he was capable of creating such a mess when he worked in the kitchen. It certainly blew away everything she'd seen of his neat and orderly manner at the Hub. Then again, life was different outside the Hub, at least hers was; why shouldn't his be as well? Maybe his closet was a natural disaster, too.

She'd called him in desperation, the Christmas pudding she'd tried to prepare on her own literally exploding all over the kitchen. Rhys had gone out on the annual Harwoods Christmas Pub Crawl, and she'd been excited about the chance to spend a quiet night at home alone, baking for the holiday dinner she dreaded (never mind the irony of that). Maybe if she brought the best Christmas pudding ever Rhys's mum would find one less thing to pick on her for.

And then the damn thing had boiled over, caught fire, and somehow exploded. She could run down a Weevil in through the back alleys of Cardiff, but had been unable to stop her Christmas pudding from ending up on the ceiling.

Obviously she couldn't have called Owen, and Tosh was in London for two nights. So she'd called Ianto—in tears, and not fake ones—and he'd sighed and told her to come over. She'd dashed out the door, making sure to turn off the stove but leaving the mess, and stopped at Tescos on her way, picking up a bottle of wine plus a list of ingredients Ianto had texted her.

She hadn't been surprised to find that his flat was naturally tidy even this time of year—or maybe he was always that neat. The kitchen had been set out with spoons and bowls and every utensil they could possibly need. He even had a recipe ready.

"It was my grandmother's," he'd said. "Best trifle in Wales, I guarantee."

She had simply nodded and held out the wine, willing to do anything Ianto said at that point as long as she could produce  _something_  to take to Brenda's house. Ianto had grinned, expertly opened the bottle, and poured two large glasses as they had set about unpacking the bags and getting started on their holiday baking.

Now leaning against the counter, the kitchen a mess and the second bottle of wine breathing between them, Gwen couldn't help but giggle at a spot of flour on Ianto's face. She reached over to clean it off, but was stopped when there was an unexpected sound from the front door. She frowned and cocked her fingers like a gun; he rolled his eyes and set down his glass next to hers. It too wobbled precariously; Ianto stared at it as if he could still it with his mind. Maybe he did. When it didn't topple over, he grinned triumphantly and headed into the lounge, not bothering with his weapon. He looked about as steady as Gwen felt.

She heard Jack's voice and sighed. There went the fun. Well, Jack was fun, in a different kind of way, but Ianto was  _really_ fun and hadn't annoyed her once, which Jack could do ten times in an hour. Or maybe it was just that being alone with Ianto was more fun—he was different, more relaxed. Now that Jack was here, she'd be all but forgotten while they made moony eyes at each other, and there went a perfectly good night of drinking. She'd have to find a ride home after all that wine and then what? Wait for Rhys to get back drunk off his arse?

Gwen took a large sip of her wine before Ianto returned to the kitchen, Jack trailing behind. One look at Jack's face had her almost spitting her drink out. Glancing at Ianto, she raised her eyebrows and he…wait, he  _winked?_  She knew he winked, she'd seen it before and it was charming, but it was also rare, and he'd just winked at  _her_ , which almost never happened, and it was…well, adorable and sexy as hell at the same time.

But why had he winked?

Shaking her fuzzy head, Gwen gave Jack the brightest smile she could. Jack looked like a soldier appraising the enemy, watching them both warily as if they might attack any moment. Oh, that was interesting: Jack Harkness, caught off guard. He'd probably come by for…well, she didn't really want to think about that…but he'd come by, and it was almost midnight so it was obviously not for dinner and a movie. Instead of finding Ianto curled up alone in front of the fireplace (because Gwen was sure that's what he did, right? Like Tosh probably did too. Why weren't  _they_  together? Wouldn't that have made more sense?) Jack had found Ianto with Gwen, covered in flour with one bottle of wine empty on the counter and another half gone.

Ianto was reaching into a cabinet for another glass and poured Jack some of the rioja. Gwen pouted for a moment until she realized that if her and Ianto finished it alone, they'd likely end up on the floor. Then again, he had more in the cupboard…he probably sipped expensive wine while in front of that fireplace with that book, after all…

Grabbing her own glass, Gwen raised it to Jack. Ianto turned and caught her eye, his cheeks slightly flushed and a broad smile on his face. And somehow she knew that it was going to be all right, in spite of the pout she saw already forming on Jack's face at finding her there. Ianto was glad to have her and that was all that mattered. That and her trifle.

Ianto leaned against the counter, his glass half empty already. "So what brings you by? I thought you had something to attend to?" He said it matter-of-factly, and Gwen heard no rancor whatsoever in his words. Then again, Ianto was a saint; Jack's secrets would have driven her mad a year ago if she'd let them.

"And I attended to it," said Jack. He took a sip of the red and nodded appreciatively. "You two have good taste."

"You brought it," Ianto pointed out. "Last time we had paella. Rift interrupted us."

"And you opened it without me?" asked Jack, but Gwen could tell he was putting on the act; his blue eyes were twinkling, and she hoped she was about to enjoy a front row seat to a classic battle of verbal wit. Sometimes it flew so fast at the Hub she could barely follow the combination of banter and flirtation and reproof and whatever else they managed to throw in. She was going to try damned hard to follow now, though, even if her (and Ianto) were half pissed.

"We finished the first bottle, a good white," Ianto shrugged, tossing his head toward the empty bottle nearby. "And we still had more cooking to do." He paused and put away the last of his glass. "Not to mention the cleanup."

Gwen laughed. "I'm sorry, Ianto. I'm an absolute disaster in the kitchen."

"I noticed," he replied. He gestured at her clothing. "Half the ingredients must be decorating your shirt."

She glanced down and brushed some of it away, then glanced up with a grin. "You're not exactly spot clean yourself." Reaching out, she brushed that bit of flour from his flushed cheek and felt rather than heard Jack step forward.

"Now, now, I can handle the cleaning up," Jack said, stepping close enough to touch Ianto's face, but the other man ducked under and around to grab the Rioja from the counter. Pouring himself another glass, Ianto turned and grinned.

"Gwen was doing just fine, I think. Besides, there will be time to clean up later."

Gwen was pretty sure Ianto mouthed something incredibly dirty to Jack, but she didn't let on to catching it. Instead she finished her glass and held it out for a refill. Thankfully, Ianto obliged without any more innuendo.

"So what are you two doing anyway?" asked Jack. "I thought you were both looking forward to a quiet night at home—no Rift, no family, nothing. What brought this on?"

Ianto filled Jack's glass, although it was only half empty, then motioned—really, pushed—them out into the lounge, where a jazz quintet was playing holiday music on the stereo. He grabbed a third bottle of wine on the way and threw himself on the couch with the loose-limbed relaxation of someone who'd just shared two bottles of wine with a friend, and Gwen practically fell down next to him with a content sigh.

"So?" asked Jack, looking slightly put out at being forced to sit in the armchair by himself. At least he was at Ianto's end of the sofa. Gwen could practically see Jack's hands itching to reach out and touch the other man's knee. But apparently Ianto wasn't going to get any action until he answered the question.

"It's Gwen's story," he said. She huffed at him and set her glass down on the table in front of them. He immediately grabbed a coaster from the side table and tossed in her lap. She huffed again, but placed her glass on the coaster while Jack watched them, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. She tried not to laugh, but as she thought about her failed attempt at a Christmas pudding, she couldn't help it. How pathetic.

"I tried to make a Christmas pudding," she started. Jack finished his wine, and Ianto opened the new bottle and topped him off with a wink and something that looked almost like a slight leer; Gwen ignored it.

"Bit late for that," Jack pointed out. "You should have done it a month ago."

"Yes, I realize that now. Ianto really does know everything, and not just about the Hub."

"So why are you here then?"

"Because I botched it. I can't even boil a bloody pudding. Set the alarm off and everything."

Jack raised an eyebrow, and Ianto shrugged as he jumped in. "She said it was reminder of her inglorious defeat in battle and insisted on coming here to fight the good fight once more."

"I did not!" Gwen exclaimed. Ianto actually sniggered at her response, and it was all she could do to refrain from punching him in the arm.

"You  _were_  crying," he pointed out.

"I was. I wanted to make a pudding for Rhys's mum." Gwen sighed. "And when it ended up on the ceiling, I called Ianto. He suggested I come over and try a trifle instead."

"Since most puddings need to age a month," Ianto reminded her, and she nodded.

"So I've got a lovely trifle instead now, thanks to our miracle-working general support genius of a cook," Gwen finished.

"Two trifles," said Ianto. "One for me and one for you. Hence the mess. Although you'll notice my side of the kitchen is much neater."

"It is not!" Gwen exclaimed again. "And stop throwing me under the bus!"

"You do make it easy," Jack murmured.

"Exactly," Ianto agreed.

Gwen picked up her wine glass and hid behind it, since she knew perfectly well they were right. She didn't really care, not really, but she did have appearances to keep up, and one of them was appearing offended. Because if she didn't, they might try harder and really piss her off, and she didn't really feel like being angry at anyone when she felt so good at the moment.

"So what are you doing here?" asked Gwen, then abruptly realized how awkward that sounded given Jack and Ianto were grown adults and could do what they pleased, when they pleased. It was still just so strange to think that they actually did things…together, with each other and alone. Granted, Jack had been back for six months now, but…no, she wasn't going there. There wasn't anything strange about it. She just wasn't used to it yet, coworkers being in a relationship and all. And she'd better get used to it because it was pretty damn obvious they were, sitting right there in front of her. Ianto had moved closer to the end of the sofa, and Jack's hand easily reached his thigh now.

Gwen coughed to get their attention. "Sorry, that's an obvious answer. What have you been up to all night then?"

Jack winked. "It's a secret."

She pretended to gasp. "You're really Father Christmas, aren't you? You've been out loading the sleigh for tomorrow."

Jack laughed loudly, and Ianto snorted inelegantly into his glass before finishing it. He filled them all up again and took a long sip of his drink; Jack's eyebrows flew up his forehead, but Ianto merely met the look with a lip-licking challenge.

Oh god, she was stuck in the middle of a drinking contest with two randy men. Gwen suddenly wondered just how she had ended up in such a position. Oh yes, she'd started it with the botched pudding and wine…well, she couldn't really complain. They were quite attractive men, after all.

Shaking her head of those kinds of thoughts, Gwen gazed groggily at Jack, waiting for an answer. He finally set down his glass and fell back into the armchair. "I was just taking care of a few things for the holidays. No secrets, just nothing to share when you obviously won't remember it in the morning."

"Oi!" Gwen sat up straighter and wagged her finger at Jack. "I will remember everything. The wine, the laughter, the mess, that bit with the strawberries…"

"The strawberries…" Ianto echoed, his own voice trailing off as his eyes glazed and he smiled.

Jack glanced between them. "What strawberries? I like strawberries. Any left?"

"Sorry, no," said Ianto. "But there is plenty of whip cream."

"Oh good," said Jack, drawing it out with a leer. Gwen held up a hand, put back the rest of her glass, and spoke firmly.

"Stop. I don't want to know anything about you two and whip cream."

"You sure? Could give you some good ideas for later if you want half," said Ianto. She stared at him in shock. He'd clearly been around Jack for too long.

"Ianto!" she said, and this time she did try to punch his arm, only to end up falling into his shoulder instead. He wrapped an arm around her, and she let him hold her while she half-heartedly chewed him out. "That is a very naughty thing to say, you know."

"Naughty?" he repeated. "Gwen, is that the best you can come up with and does it really surprise you?"

"I'm sorry, but someone gave me too much wine, so yes it is and yes it does."

"Someone drank it all on her own."

"Someone kept refilling my glass."

"Someone pulled a second bottle out of my pantry."

"Someone dropped a strawberry in my glass."

"Someone dropped one in my mouth."

"Kids!" Jack cut in, and they both looked at him. Gwen thought the look on his face was one of the most complicated expressions she had ever seen from him before: exasperated, envious, and definitely a little turned on. She giggled as she sat up and smacked Ianto in the chest.

"Prat," she murmured.

"Oi!" he said, lowered his voice. "I just saved your Christmas. I have half a mind to tag along with you and Rhys and take credit for that trifle, you know."

"Trust me, you don't want to spend Christmas with Brenda." Gwen actually shuddered.

"I met her at the wedding," said Jack. "Gwen's right. You should spend Christmas with me."

Ianto glanced up in surprise. "I thought you were going…doing…well, you know…" He trailed off, obviously having no idea what Jack had planned to do for Christmas.

Gwen stood on unsteady feet. "I should go."

"Why?" asked Ianto, looking at her in surprise.

"How?" asked Jack. She stared at them both, two questions at once proving difficult to answer.

"I'll call a cab," she said, going with the second.

"Why?" Ianto repeated.

"Because you two…you know…you should probably…" She trailed off at the looks on their faces: Ianto still confused, and Jack obviously amused.

" _Talk,"_  she finished as best as she could. "You know, about Christmas. Together."

"Oh." Ianto nodded slowly. "Right. Christmas." He stood on unsteady feet and pulled a sad face. "I thought I was joining you at the Williams'. With my trifle."

Gwen laid a hand on his chest and smiled. "I'd love to have you, sweetheart, but they would really get the wrong idea if I showed up with another handsome bloke."

"About Ianto?" Jack said, kicking back and watching. "Nah. Who can get the wrong idea about him?"

Ianto snorted as he headed toward the kitchen. "Most people, I think." He stopped and straightened his shoulders. "Even you, sometimes."

Gwen giggled as Jack rolled his eyes. "I really should go."

"I'm wrapping my trifle now!" came a shout from the kitchen.

"My trifle!" Gwen shouted back. She sighed. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you drive me home?"

"Oi!" came another shout from the kitchen. "You've not cleaned up your mess, young lady."

"Ianto, I'm older than you," Gwen said. She tripped slightly as she headed into the kitchen.

"And Jack's older than dirt, doesn't mean he gets away with making a mess around here." Ianto seemed to realize what he'd said as soon as the words left his mouth. He closed his eyes as Jack appeared in the doorway.

"Define mess."

"Do I have to?"

"Try."

"Where?"

"Where do I want you to define it?" In spite of being relatively sober, Jack was still one step behind. This was the verbal fun she'd been waiting for. Gwen cleared off the table and started wiping it clean with a cloth Ianto threw at her.

"Where's the mess?" asked Ianto.

"Ahhh," said Jack, and without even looking Gwen knew without a doubt he was leering…and Ianto had  _encouraged_  it. Shaking her head she pretended to sing.

"Still here!" she trilled, not daring to turn around. But someone crept up next to her and went "Boo!" and she couldn't help but jump in surprise.

"We're still here too," Ianto said. "So no worries."

"But still dressed," said Jack, pretending to sound disappointed. Gwen let her eyes fall closed at that. Maybe she ought to call Rhys…only he was probably just as pissed as she was…

"Jack, don't scare her, she's completely soused." Ianto's voice suddenly sounded unusually sober. She whirled on him, only to find him lounging against the sink with Jack, arms folded over their chests, watching her clean off the table. She tossed the wet rag at them and was rewarded when it slapped Ianto across the face. Not so normal, then, or his reflexes would have been much better. She doubled over with helpless giggles and missed whatever it was that Ianto grumbled under her breath.

She did, however, stand and catch him red-handed with the faucet sprayer in his hand, Jack watching gleefully. Fortunately her phone rang at that moment, so she grinned and ran out to answer it before she ended up soaked.

Of course it was Rhys; that was good, wasn't it?

And he wasn't pissed at all, at least not in the stupid drunk sense. He was upset by the state of the kitchen and worried about where she had run off to, but when she explained it all—complete with loud interjections from Jack and Ianto behind her—he seemed to understand and told her he'd be over to pick her up.

He forgot to ask directions to Ianto's flat, however, and called right back. That sent the boys into fits of laughter as they began to clean up the kitchen with a bit too much touching as far as Gwen was concerned. She let herself fall into the armchair, too dizzy to really think about handling dishes of any sort. Plus she didn't want to get sprayed, not before Rhys picked her up and took her home in the freezing cold.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, Rhys, Jack, and Ianto were standing before her, staring down at her. She screamed as she was startled out of a bizarre dream about exploding pudding, Ianto in nothing but an apron, and Brenda as an alien.

"Time to go, luv," Rhys said, helping her up. Gwen leaned on him heavily and noticed that Ianto was doing the same to Jack…and then some. She couldn't even see one of his hands.

"At least wait until we leave," she groaned.

"I'm trying," Jack grinned. "It's his fault. This is actually me as a good boy."

"He's right," said Ianto, his hand now clearly lost somewhere under the back of Jack's shirt. Rhys stared at them in shock.

"What?" he said rather stupidly, and Gwen just steered him toward the door. Jack dropped a large glass dish in Rhys's hands, but Rhys was too busy trying to puzzle out what Ianto was doing behind Jack now to say much about it.

"What's—" he started, and Gwen hushed him with a shake of her head and a gentle push out the door.

"I'll be out in a moment, Rhys. Let me say goodbye."

"Right," he nodded, still looking a bit stunned. "Don't be long. You need a bed, you do." He winked, Gwen kissed him, Jack groaned, and Ianto nodded in appreciation.

"My thoughts exactly," Ianto said. "Not about you, of course," he added to Gwen. "Just… in general, you know."

"I know," she said. She stepped up and wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. "You're amazing, Ianto Jones."

"I try my best," he replied, earning a double take from Jack and tossing a wink back. If she hadn't appreciated those winks before, Gwen adored them now.

"All right, I'm leaving," laughed Gwen. "Thank you for your help, I'm sorry about the mess, I had a great time, and I'll see you tomorrow." She paused. "Eventually."

"Take your time," said Jack, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "It's Christmas. Let's try for lunch, at least."

"Rift willing," murmured Ianto.

"Rift willing," agreed Jack.

"Thank you," said Gwen. "Happy Christmas." She stumbled out into the night and hurried to the car. The door shut and locked behind her, but as she glanced back at the flat, she could clearly see shadows through the windows… the shadows were very close…and it was not hard to guess what they were doing.

"Oh my," she murmured. But then the lights went out, and she sighed, and beside her Rhys swore as if he had been enjoying the show as well. Which made her laugh, and she took his hand, and they set off for home.

"So Jack and Ianto, then?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yep," said Gwen.

"How about that."

"Yep."

"They spending Christmas together?" Rhys asked, and Gwen took a moment to ponder it.

"I don't think they know yet," she said. "But I think they should." She leaned her head back and smiled to herself. "I hope they do, anyway."

Rhys squeezed her hand. "Let's go home, Gwen. We've got our own Christmas to look forward to."

And she did, she really did. She had a trifle now, after all—all thanks to Ianto Jones.

Which was why he deserved a happy Christmas with someone he cared about as well. She hoped he enjoyed his trifle with Jack, because she couldn't imagine anything better for the two of them.

Except maybe the leftover whip cream. Damn. She should have asked for half.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how this happened. I really don't. But I hope you liked it because it was fun. If you didn't, maybe try it with a bottle of Vinho Verde? I know I'd give anything to be Gwen myself here. Thank you so much for reading!


	12. Hot Chocolate

XII. Hot Chocolate (Series 1)

"You look like you could use this." Jack held out a steaming green mug covered in a hideous holly and ivy print. Ianto raised a curious eyebrow as he glanced up and took the offered drink.

"Where in the world did you find this?" he asked, warming his hands on the hot mug.

"I made it myself, actually," said Jack, sitting down with his own mug, an unsightly combination of mixed plaids, candy canes, and wreaths.

"You made it?" asked Ianto, holding up the mug with a decidedly dubious look.

Jack frowned. "What's wrong? Too hot? Too cold? Too much?"

"I was talking about the mug, Jack," Ianto replied dryly. "It's appalling."

"It's a mug," said Jack, rolling his eyes. "It holds liquid. It's not like the taste of the drink is directly proportional to the appearance of the cup it's in. Einstein proved it."

"He did no such thing." Ianto raised another skeptical eyebrow before taking a sip. He closed his eyes and smiled. "But you're right, of course. This is delicious."

"Thank you," said Jack, leaning back and sipping contentedly at his own. "I can't make coffee worth a damn, but I can do hot chocolate like few others."

"You certainly can," Ianto murmured. "It's perfect." They sat side by side on the sofa in silence, enjoying a rare moment of companionship unmarred by Rift alerts, Weevils, or squabbling coworkers.

Ianto was the first to set his empty mug down. "What did you add to it?" he asked, leaning back again, though slightly closer to Jack this time.

"What do you mean?"

"It has a kick," said Ianto. "A nice one." He folded his hands over his stomach and let his head fall back. "What did you add?"

"I used whole milk, chocolate, sugar, vanilla, a shot of coffee, and a pinch of cinnamon." Jack took a long drink and pretended to moan. "Not bad if I do say so myself."

"And what else?" pressed Ianto.

"Chocolate liquor," Jack replied with a wink. "Makes it extra chocolaty."

"Is that even a word?" asked Ianto, a relaxed smile on his face.

"Of course it is." Jack finished his drink, set it down, and leaned back next to Ianto, turning his head so that they were almost nose-to-nose. "And I'll tell you a secret. It was dark chocolate, too."

"Oh really?" asked Ianto. "Didn't know we had any of that."

"Good for your serotonin levels," Jack replied with a wink. Ianto groaned in response and turned away.

"Why do you bring that up every time we have chocolate?" he said. "No one likes having bad pick up lines tossed back in their face."

"So it was a pick up line!" crowed Jack. "I knew it!"

"It was for the dinosaur," murmured Ianto, though he was smiling. "And it was terrible."

"I don't know," said Jack, grinning as he bumped shoulders with Ianto. "I think you have some good lines."

Ianto let his eyes slip closed and shook his head. "Not really."

"Oh, come on," Jack teased. "There was the one about my coat, the one about catching the pterodactyl together, and my favorite—the one about the stopwatch."

Ianto's eyes flew open. "That was the worst one of all, Jack. I still can't believe I said that."

Jack patted his knee in mock understanding. "I know, but it had been a long day."

"And I can't believe you took me up on it." Ianto paused with a smirk. "After I explained it, of course."

Jack laughed. "Why wouldn't I have taken you up on it?"

Ianto remained silent, letting his eyes slip shut again, ruminations of a more serious nature obviously over for the moment.

"Do you want some more?" Jack asked, motioning at their empty mugs.

Ianto opened his eyes, gazed at Jack with a tired, bleary look, and then nodded before closing them again. "Thank you. And maybe a few biscuits, too."

Jack laughed as he stood and gathered their mugs. "Would you like me to cook dinner for you, too, dear?"

"I'd love it," Ianto replied without thinking. His eyes flew open. "I mean, I am a bit hungry, but I didn't mean that you…that we…" He stuttered to a stop, frowning. "Never mind. Just some biscuits, please."

"Biscuits and hot chocolate, coming up," said Jack. He disappeared for a few minutes and appeared with two new mugs and a plate of cookies. Ianto struggled to sit up, exhaustion obvious in his slow movements and the deep lines of his face.

"Jack, these mugs are even more hideous than the others," he pointed out, frowning at a rather inebriated Father Christmas dancing around a fireplace in green and red pants. "Where did you find them?"

Jack winked. "I hid them weeks ago. I didn't want you to get rid of them."

"Seriously?" asked Ianto. "We not only have a collection of ghastly Christmas mugs, but you actually hid them from me so I wouldn't toss them in the rubbish bin?"

"Would you?" countered Jack.

"Of course I would," said Ianto. "They're scandalous. We are representatives of the Queen, after all." He took a deep sip of the dark liquid. "Oh, but that's even better. What did you put in this time?"

"Bit more chocolate liquor with a hint of peppermint schnapps."

"I didn't realize we had a fully stocked liquor cabinet as well as a collection of hideous holiday kitsch."

Jack shrugged. "We do now. I picked it up last week. It's festive, plus it's good for nights like this—hot chocolate with a kick."

"Be good in coffee, too," Ianto murmured. "Not first thing in the morning, of course, but maybe the afternoon."

"Or after a late night search for alien tech in the cold rain?" suggested Jack, to which Ianto nodded.

"That too. So what was that thing we dug out of the bushes?"

"No idea," said Jack. "We'll let Tosh have a go tomorrow. Give her something to do since she hasn't had anything new come by her desk in almost a week. I think she's getting twitchy. The Rift has been quiet."

"That's because it's getting ready," Ianto murmured.

"For what?" asked Jack. He sipped at his mug, grinning at the image of nine reindeer doing a kick line.

"For something big," said Ianto. Jack raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm right. You've been here far longer than I have, and I can already sense the Rift acts in cycles."

Jack nodded, impressed at the man's acute perception of both Jack's past and the Rift's quirks. "You are right, I'll admit. That's been the pattern for several years now. So yes, I suspect something big as well."

"Hopefully not on Christmas," said Ianto. "London can deal with the really big things." He polished off the last of his mug and set it down with a thump. Jack noticed a slightly pink tint to Ianto's cheeks, a softness about his eyes, and looseness in his body.

"Do you have plans for Christmas?" Jack asked casually.

Ianto shook his head. "Nope. Just trying to avoid any familial entanglements."

Jack didn't reply for a bit, hoping Ianto might volunteer more information. Yet when Jack finished his second drink and sat back, Ianto almost appeared asleep. Jack sighed, wishing Ianto was awake now that they had a chance to relax and talk.

"I'm awake," said Ianto without opening his eyes. "Just thinking."

"About how to avoid your family on Christmas?" teased Jack.

"Yep." Again, nothing more was offered, but this time Jack asked. He was feeling comfortable and curious and content.

"Why?"

"Why what?" asked Ianto.

"Why don't you want to see your family on Christmas? It's Christmas, it's family. It's what you're supposed to do." He waited while Ianto took a deep breath and sat up, turning to face Jack. It sent a slight thrill of warmth through him, this casual companionship and open conversation. Too often their interactions were still tainted with the memory of betrayal, or lost in a haze of lust. At that moment, Jack felt more at ease than he had in years.

"Too many questions," Ianto said softly. "They don't know what I do, so how do I even begin to explain the last eight months? I can't." He sighed. "It's better to avoid them, at least in large groups. I might be good at creating stories for what we do here, but I don't like creating my own stories for an audience I'm related to."

"You're good at it." Jack laughed, but Ianto hung his head, misinterpreting Jack's comment.

"I know," he whispered. "And I'm sorry."

Jack's hand flew to Ianto's leg. "No, that's not what I meant at all. I just meant…well, damn."

"It's okay."

"I'm sorry, too," said Jack, meaning it.

"I know."

More silence descended, accompanied by the awkwardness Jack had been thinking was pleasantly absent. He blew out a breath. "Another drink?" he asked.

"Trying to get me drunk?" asked Ianto, forced lightness in his voice.

"Just trying to relax. We deserve it. The Rift has been quiet, but the Weevils haven't."

Which was true. Weevil calls had kept them all out in some combination for several nights in a row. Everyone was taking turns, and that night just happened to be Jack and Ianto's turn. They had ended up chasing down half a dozen of the creatures before heading out for a small retrieval, and given that it was well past midnight, Jack was hoping there wouldn't be any more issues. He was tired, and Ianto looked knackered. He probably shouldn't be offering a third drink, but he wanted to reclaim the easy, open conversation from earlier. So he made them each a double.

Ianto's eyes went wide at the first sip. "You really are trying to get me pissed!" he exclaimed.

Jack shook his head with a grin. "I'm not," he said. "Although I bet you're a fascinating drunk."

"Fascinating?" Ianto rolled his eyes. "Not quite."

"So what are you, then?" asked Jack. "Fun, flirty, angry, depressed?" In spite of himself, Ianto apparently couldn't help grinning into his drink.

"I tend to get a bit…ah, affectionate, for one," he said, then shook his head. "No, that's night right. Horny and uninhibited is more like it," he laughed. "And a bit vulgar," he added.

"Then why in the world haven't we gone to the pub together?" teased Jack. "I would love to see a horny, uninhibited, and vulgar Ianto Jones."

"No, you don't." Ianto took a deep sip of his drink. "Which is why I should stop, but it's too good, and I'm too tired."

Jack made a sound of agreement. After a long silence, he chanced conversation again.

"So if you don't want to spend the holiday with family, how about the end of the world? It would give you a reason to get away."

Ianto rolled his neck, and Jack thought he heard it crack. "Right, because 'Sorry, mum, but I have to go and save the world from the green skinned lizard aliens of Alpha Centauri who just landed on the Plass' would go over well at a traditional Welsh Christmas dinner."

"They're not green," said Jack, grinning in reflection as he sipped his drink. It was strong, and he'd be feeling it soon. "And they're not lizards, either."

He pictured the look on Ianto's face: skeptical eyebrow, small frown, perhaps slightly wider eyes, and a shake of the head.

"I really don't know whether to believe you or not, you know."

"I know," said Jack. "But most of the time you can. Look it up in the archives sometime."

Ianto stood, but apparently too fast, because he fell right back down to the sofa, jostling Jack enough to send them both into a fit of giggles.

"I will. But not right now, apparently."

"Ooh, feeling horny, uninhibited, or vulgar yet?" asked Jack. He took another large gulp of his drink, finally starting to feel the pleasant warmth of the alcohol course through him and begin to relax limbs tired and sore from chasing Weevils so many nights. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. When Ianto didn't answer, he opened one eye and found the other man watching him with a grin.

"What?" asked Jack.

"Nothing," said Ianto. "Just wondering what you're like after a few drinks. Horny, uninhibited, and vulgar too?"

"Ianto, I am always horny, uninhibited, and vulgar."

"Point."

Silence. Jack turned sideways on the sofa and propped himself up on the palm of his hand.

"I get talkative when I drink. So if you're not crazy about spending the holiday with your family and don't want a major catastrophe as distraction, what are you planning to do?"

"Don't know," said Ianto. He was staring into the Hub, his eyes distant. "Might have proposed to Lisa, she once said she thought Christmas proposals were romantic." He shrugged. "Then again, I'm not very romantic, so I'm sure I would have mucked it up somehow."

Jack wasn't sure what to say, but he didn't want his lack of a response to answer for him. He let his hand reach toward Ianto's face, gently brushed his fingers down the man's cheek.

"You probably shouldn't be alone," he said softly, then wondered where that had come from, since it sounded a bit suggestive. And he was hardly one to talk, after all; he'd spent dozens of Christmases alone.

"Or it might be for the best," Ianto replied with a shrug. "I don't know what sort of company I'd be. I honestly haven't thought about it much. When I do, the idea of spending a quiet night in my flat, tucked away from the world, sitting in front of the fire watching bad holiday movies with a bottle of wine and a plate of fresh pasta sounds rather appealing."

Jack smiled. "Yeah, it does. I hope the Rift is quiet, then. You deserve it." He wondered if Ianto was thinking about asking Jack to join him. He thought about asking Ianto if he wanted to go out to dinner, since Jack couldn't very well invite himself over to the other man's flat, no matter how appealing Ianto's vision of Christmas sounded. Ianto said nothing, although he leaned in toward Jack's touch a bit more.

"Feeling affectionate?" teased Jack. Ianto glanced at him through thick eyelashes, that crooked half-smile on his face that made him look so damn sexy when they were alone.

"Might be," Ianto replied.

"Horny?" continued Jack, edging closer. "Uninhibited?"

"Oh, it doesn't take much for that lately."

"Really?" asked Jack. Yes, the alcohol had loosened Ianto's tongue if he was talking about sex.

"Yep." Ianto tilted his head to the side and Jack ran his fingers along the man's neck. "You and your secret sex powers."

"Sex powers?" Jack laughed. "I didn't think it was that big a secret, though."

Ianto shook his head. "I suppose not, the way you flirt and tell stories."

"But you like it," Jack murmured, leaning closer.

Ianto rolled his eyes, but they were heavy lidded with desire, and he licked his lips as he set down his mug, returning to the sofa and moving even closer.

"The stories or the powers?" he murmured. "Because I like one much more than the other."

"Oh, are we getting to the uninhibited part now?" asked Jack. He tossed back the rest of his drink and set it down, moving back to wrap an arm around Ianto's shoulder.

"Not quite," Ianto replied. His eyes slipped closed before he shifted away from Jack, neatly falling to the sofa and pulling Jack with him so that Ianto's hands were now firmly wrapped around Jack's waist and laying on his arse. Jack was rather impressed with the move. It must have shown on his face because Ianto grinned and raised one hand to the back of Jack's head, pulling him down.

"Uninhibited would be me asking you to come over for Christmas," Ianto replied. "Which I'm not." He brushed his lips against Jack's, moving his hips at the same time and pulling a low groan from Jack that had him grinning. "At least, not yet."

"Need another drink?" murmured Jack, teasing kisses along Ianto's jaw.

"Not if I want to shag you properly," Ianto murmured, then let his head fall back as he laughed. "Okay, maybe a bit uninhibited," he amended.

"Does that mean I get an invitation?" asked Jack. He sat up and undid Ianto's tie before unbuttoning his waistcoat, then his deep blue shirt. Ianto massaged Jack's upper thighs; it was rather distracting, especially as he was finding it hard to balance and not rub himself against Ianto's obvious erection.

"To what?" asked Ianto, his brow knitting together slightly. "To shag or be shagged?"

Jack laughed, running his hands up and down Ianto's bare chest. He slipped Ianto's tie off as he kissed the Welshman deeply, leaving them both slightly breathless. Tossing the tie on the table beside them, Jack started to lick a mark into Ianto's neck, right at the spot he knew drove the other man crazy.

"Do I need an invitation?" Jack murmured against Ianto's warm skin. Sure enough, the man bucked beneath him, groaning his name.

"Not when you do that," he managed to gasp out.

"Oh, I can do even better than that," said Jack, and proceeded to show him until Ianto begged him to stop.

"Bed," he ordered, even though his hands were fumbling with Jack's trousers. "Yours. Blankets. Pillows. Lube."

"Flavored?" murmured Jack, still kissing him.

"God, yes," said Ianto. "And candles and music and sex and more sex…" He trailed off, looking slightly surprised. "I am drunk."

"Going to talk dirty to me now?" asked Jack, and god, he wanted it. He might not be able to control himself for long if Ianto Jones talked dirty for him.

Ianto glanced down, clearly eyeing Jack's erection, then met his eyes before leaning up to whisper something deliciously filthy in Jack's ear, punctuating it with a lick, a suck, and a bite. Jack shivered and twitched and jumped up, pulling Ianto with him.

"Bed," he panted. "Now."

"Finally," Ianto agreed, though they couldn't keep their hands off one another and literally stumbled toward Jack's office before Ianto once again stopped them.

"Get the chocolate," he murmured against Jack's lips, then abruptly straightened with a sudden grin. "And the rest of the pudding from lunch."

Jack groaned and took Ianto for another long kiss. When he turned toward the kitchen, Ianto tugged on his hand.

"You should come over for Christmas," he said. Jack stopped in his tracks.

"What?" he asked.

"Come over for Christmas," Ianto repeated slowly. "To mine. We can watch bad Christmas movies in front of the fire—"

"And drink wine with a plate of pasta?" asked Jack, trying to sound light when in reality his heart was thumping. It had been years since he had spent Christmas with anyone, let alone someone he liked, and he definitely liked Ianto Jones.

"Can you cook?" asked Ianto.

"Yes, and I'll bring the wine," said Jack. He squeezed Ianto's hand. "But first, I've been ordered to get the chocolate and pudding."

"Right," said Ianto, nodding as if he had forgotten. "Chocolate and pudding. And towels. Bring towels."

Jack burst out laughing. "I have towels downstairs," he said. "But I love the way you think, Mr. Jones."

"And I love the way you…" Ianto glanced around as if someone might hear them, then leaned closer and murmured something almost shocking in Jack's ear. Tempted to shag him right there, Jack hobbled over to the kitchen, grabbed the required supplies plus the bottle of chocolate liquor, and hurried back to his office, where Ianto was halfway down the ladder.

"Oh, this could be interesting," he said, glancing up Jack's leg with a dirty little smirk that left no doubt as to what he was thinking.

"Bed," Jack reminded him. "Pillows. Blankets."

"Flavored lube."

"Candles and music."

"Pasta and wine," Ianto continued.

"That's for another night," Jack murmured, following him down.

"For Christmas," Ianto clarified.

"For Christmas," said Jack. "If you'll still have me when you wake up."

"If you still want to come by when you wake up," Ianto tossed back, before practically attacking Jack's shirt. Jack helped him along and quickly divested the other man of his shirt as well, letting his hands settle on Ianto's hips.

"I would really like to," said Jack, smiling against Ianto's mouth. "Thank you for asking."

"Thank you for accepting," murmured Ianto. "And thank you for the drinks, even if they were served in ugly mugs as a way to get into my pants on Christmas."

"It's not Christmas," said Jack, not following Ianto's reasoning. "And I'm not in your pants yet."

"And you don't think that sitting around watching bad Christmas movies in front of the fire with a bottle of wine and a plate of pasta is going to end up that way?"

"Point," said Jack.

"Now we're tied," said Ianto, wiggling his eyebrows. He stopped as an idea came to him. "Oh." He glanced around. "Where's my tie?"

"It's upstairs, so maybe later," laughed Jack, leaning in for another kiss. "I thought you had something else in mind."

"I do," said Ianto. "Let's see how this works." Ianto grabbed the bottle of liquor, took a deep sip, then leaned over and kissed Jack deeply. Jack groaned out loud at the taste of rich chocolate on his mouth, then did the same.

"If what works?" he asked when he was finished. Ianto picked up the pudding, tossed the lid on the nearby dresser, and dipped one slim finger into the sticky mess. Then he held it up, popped it into his mouth, and slowly sucked it clean. Jack almost came in his pants.

"There's quite a list," Ianto murmured.

"See, your lines are brilliant," Jack replied. He did the same with the pudding, completely taken by following Ianto's lead and utterly satisfied to see Ianto's eyes darken with lust at being followed.

"Trousers off," said Ianto. "Don't want to get anything on them."

"Just me?" asked Jack.

"If you want to go first," Ianto replied.

"It was your idea," said Jack. He stepped out of his trousers and then his pants before lying down in his bed, arms behind his head. "Candles?" he asked.

"Save them for Christmas," said Ianto, staring unabashedly at Jack's naked body spread out before him.

"More romantic?" asked Jack. Ianto stared at him, shook himself, and glanced away with a bittersweet grin.

"If we were the romantic type."

"What are we, then?" asked Jack. He wouldn't mind the romance, although he sensed they were treading in dangerous waters. It was a bit of a loaded question, but fortunately, Ianto rescued them from drowning.

"We…" Ianto began, then grinned. "We are about to get dirty."

The double meaning was clear.

Ianto slowly unzipped his trousers, effortlessly slipping them off but leaving his boxers on. He picked up the bowl of pudding and straddled Jack.

"You look like you could use this," he whispered, dipping his finger into the pudding once more. Jack gave in to Ianto's expert hands and warm lips. The pudding was a bonus; even better was the lazy, hot shower they took to clean up.

They fell asleep tangled together, the scent of chocolate and pudding filling the air around them. Jack idly wondered if Ianto had meant what he'd said about Christmas, or if he'd regret offering the invitation in the morning. Even as the effects of the hot chocolate and amazing sex wore off and sleep began to claim him, Jack hoped he was still welcome at Ianto's flat for Christmas. He couldn't imagine a better way to spend the holiday than with the man beside him. In front of the fire, with wine and pasta and bad Christmas movies.

Especially if it ended with pudding and chocolate.

Or maybe one of Ianto's ties.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote all these holiday dribbles, drabbles, and short stories in 2013 and 2014. The first eleven appear under the title 'Winter Wonderwood' at ff.net along with one more that I am saving for last. The next four stories appeared under the title 'Holiday Dribbles and Drabbles.' So if you see them there or notice a difference in writing style, that's why. I hope you have enjoyed them so far! My favorite two are coming up soon, along with my Torchwood edition of ''Twas The Night Before Christmas' to close the series. Thanks for reading!


	13. The Nutcracker

XIII. The Nutcracker (Series 2)

"So…" Jack trailed off, tapping his fingers on the window as he gazed out into the dark night. "Where are we off to?"

"You'll see," said Ianto, eyes on the road. "It's a surprise."

"I'm not a big fan of surprises, you know," Jack replied after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, you are," Ianto replied. "You don't like secrets, remember?"

Jack sighed. He usually did enjoy surprises, and was particularly intrigued by whatever Ianto had planned. He was impatient, though, and Ianto's stubborn insistence was as much of a turn on as it was irritating. Whatever the man had planned, Jack hoped it was quick, because he had his own plans for the Welshman afterwards…

Ianto turned on the cd player. The strains of a symphony orchestra filled the car. Jack glanced sideways at Ianto.

" _The Nutcracker_?" he asked. "You have  _The Nutcracker_  in your cd player?"

"It's Christmas," said Ianto, as if that explained it.

Jack nodded, easily accepting the explanation, and couldn't help but whistle along. He sensed Ianto grinning next to him and stopped.

"Have you ever seen it?" asked Ianto.

Jack offered him a  _'What do you think?'_  look.

"Let me guess, you were at the premiere," Ianto said, dry pitch to his voice. "Tchaikovsky was gay, you probably had a celebratory shag." He paused. "No, it wasn't an immediate success, you so comforted him afterward, didn't you?"

Jack shook his head, tempted to laugh but the matter-of-fact tone about his sexual past was a bit sobering. "No, I was not at the premiere. That was in Russia, wasn't it? I was, however, at the English premiere in…1934, I think. So yes, I've seen it. Been a while, though."

Ianto turned and looked at him in surprise. "You haven't been since?" he asked. Jack shrugged in reply.

"Not something I felt like I needed to see more than once," he replied. "I enjoyed it, though."

Ianto simply nodded in response. Jack glanced out the window again and started to get an idea.

"We're going to see it, aren't we? At St. David's?"

Ianto gave him a wink and a smile.

Jack watched him, studied him, searching for some crack in the façade, but there was nothing. "So…is there a reason, other than holiday cheer?"

"Tradition," Ianto replied. "I used to go with my grandparents growing up. Probably saw it a dozen times."

"And?"

Ianto grinned sheepishly. "Free tickets," he confessed.

"Tourist office promotion?" asked Jack, but Ianto shook his head.

"No, I actually know someone in the production."

"Who?" Jack asked without thinking.

"One of the dancers," Ianto replied.

"Ah ha," said Jack. "The truth comes out. Is she a former classmate? Neighbor? Girlfriend?"

"No, no, and definitely no," said Ianto. "He is…well, he's different."

"You know a male dancer?" Jack asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice, and to his delight, he got the eye roll in response.

"Ballet is not exotic dancing, Jack. And yes, I know a male ballet dancer. I helped him out not too long ago—a case of sorts."

"Wait, you met him through Torchwood?" asked Jack, surprised. He turned toward Ianto with a frown. "What case?"

Ianto cleared his throat as he pulled into a car park. "It was while you were gone," he replied.

"Oh." Jack was silent for a moment. "Did he…was he…did you…" He didn't know how to ask, didn't think he had a right to ask, especially since Ianto had probably handled a number of cases during Jack's absence. That didn't mean Ianto had dated or slept with them all. And yet this was clearly different, and the thought that they were there to see one of Ianto's friends, possibly an ex-lover and probably in tight pants didn't sit well with Jack. It made him feel something he didn't want to feel even though he'd been feeling it for a while—that tiny spark of jealousy he usually prided himself on avoiding.

Ianto shook his head, a look of fondness crossed with exasperation on his face. "No, Jack, we didn't. He's…well, you know how you have contacts around the city you go to for certain information?"

Jack nodded, though he wasn't quite sure which contacts Ianto was referring to; Jack had been around for a long time, after all, and had a lot of contacts for a lot of different needs.

"He's one of my contacts. I helped him with something, checked in on him several times, and now we keep in touch regularly. If I have questions, I call him. If he needs something, he calls me."

Jack was completely lost. What sort of 'something' was Ianto talking about? Sexual favors? Bondage, domination, roleplay? Now he was starting to get upset, because if Ianto had questions, Jack would be more than happy to answer them.

"Jack." Ianto was eyeing him funny. "You okay?"

Jack shook himself. "Yeah, yeah—I'm fine. Just…surprised, that's all."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "You think it's about sex, aren't you?" he asked, then shook his head as he undid his seat belt. "Not everything is about sex, Jack."

"It sort of sounds like it," Jack grumbled, and Ianto reached out to take Jack's hand.

"Jack, Bennett is an alien."

Jack stared. "What?"

"He came through the Rift. He's humanoid, but he couldn't go to Flat Holm, and he didn't need to. He's fine—intelligent, articulate, and he understands the circumstances, unlike most aliens who come through the Rift." Ianto shook his head and sighed. "So I set him up with a new identity, found him someplace to live, that sort of thing. What else could I do?"

Jack kept staring.

"Jack? Did I do the wrong thing? Because Bennett is a good man…alien…well, Jaal, I suppose. He's not doing anyone any harm, and he seems happy here."

Jack stared at him before leaning forward and kissing him hard.

"What was that for?" Ianto asked when they pulled apart. Jack laid his forehead against Ianto.

"That was for you and your brilliant mind and your even bigger heart."

"Oh."

Jack kissed him again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked as they stepped out of the car. Ianto stopped to think about it.

"No reason, really. I didn't want the rest of the team to know, for one. About Flat Holm or me giving an alien amnesty without any real authority." Ianto looked sheepish at that last. "And to be honest, he's been a valuable resource, and a good friend. I guess I liked having that to myself."

"You own secret contact," Jack teased.

"My own secret  _alien_  contact," Ianto amended. "How else do you think I know some of the things I know?" He punctuated it with a wink, hands in his pockets as they hurried through the cold Welsh night into the hall.

"So he gave you free tickets?" Jack asked as they lined up in the queue. Ianto nodded.

"Sort of a thank-you, I suppose. Turns out Jaals have an innate sensitivity and incredible ability to dance. It's their heritage. Once Bennett discovered ballet, he asked me to forge some credentials." Ianto actually colored and looked away. "I didn't want to, but when he showed me how well he could dance, I knew he didn't need to go through all the training. He'd picked it all up himself watching YouTube videos. And now he's dancing in  _The Nutcracker_."

"A remarkable story," Jack noted, and Ianto agreed.

"I much prefer dancing aliens to snarling ones."

"Can I meet him afterwards?" Jack asked as they presented their tickets to the usher. Although he implicitly trusted Ianto's judgement, he still wanted to meet this new alien in Cardiff, if only to keep himself aware of the refugee population. And know the competition.

"Absolutely," said Ianto as they made their way to their assigned row. They had fantastic seats, and Jack was growing excited. In part because he was enjoying a date at the ballet with Ianto, yet also because he had heard of the Jaals, but never seen a live performance of their legendary ability. "I've told him about you, and I think he's ready."

"Ready?" asked Jack.

"You can be a bit intimidating," Ianto pointed out.

"I can't help it," Jack protested, and Ianto laughed.

"I know," he said, patting Jack on the leg. "But he was still nervous. Apparently you've got quite the reputation in the underground alien community."

"I hope it's a good one," Jack grumbled. He worked hard to protect them and maintain a relationship with the small number of aliens who had found themselves stranded on Earth for whatever reason. It was important to him, given Torchwood's sketchy past.

"It is," Ianto assured him. "You do good things for them, Jack."

"Sounds like you are too," said Jack, once again struck by Ianto's ability to keep secrets, although he was glad that this one wasn't a dangerous secret. This one only reflected the Welshman's incredible sense of compassion and understanding.

"I'm trying. Bennett has introduced me to a few others. I'm setting up my own network, I suppose. It's not what One would have done, but it feels more right. It's what we do." Ianto glanced at the program and smiled, pointing out the Jaal's name in the program. "Have you ever seen a Jaal dance before?"

Jack shook his head. "No, but I've heard of them. We should be in for a real treat."

"I couldn't find much about them in the database," Ianto said. "But my guess is that they are mildly telepathic and broadcast while they are dancing. It's the only way to explain how moving it was to watch. It was…incredible. Breathtaking, really."

Jack searched his memory for whatever he knew about the Jaal and nodded. "I think you're probably right. Although, he must be highly trained to be able to perform in front large audiences. Jaal are also empaths, and from what I remember reading, dancing in front of an audience is difficult with so many emotions battering them at once."

Ianto nodded. "That's what Bennett said, but he said he's been trained to block the audience. Apparently he was just beginning his career on his home planet. I wish there was some way we could send him back."

"Did he say when he was from?" asked Jack hesitantly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. If the Jaal was from their time, it might be possible to contact an alien cruiser for transport. But if he wasn't, then there was very little they could do.

"The future," Ianto murmured, glancing down before meeting Jack's eyes. "Another reason I couldn't take him to Flat Holm."

"You did the right thing," said Jack, and now it was his turn to squeeze Ianto's hand. "If he's happy and dancing, then we are about to see something amazing."

"I think we are. And he seems happy, but I know how hard it is for you, out of your time…" Ianto trailed off, and Jack leaned over to kiss him.

"I'm happy too," he whispered.

"So am I," said Ianto. "Thank you for coming with me. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas. And thank you for inviting me. I wouldn't miss it." They sat quietly for a moment, reading the program, before Jack leaned close once more.

"So did Bennett show you any…moves?" he asked innocently. Ianto cocked his head with an incredulous look.

"Jack, I told you we didn't—"

"I meant ballet," Jack interrupted.

"No you didn't," said Ianto, and Jack grinned.

"No, I didn't. But one can hope. Apparently Jaals are good at more than just dancing."

Ianto stared at him for a moment, then back at the stage with a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, it appears I missed my chance then."

"You probably did."

"Maybe I'll have to take him up on his offer after all," Ianto continued. "For research purposes."

"You—what?" asked Jack. "But I thought you said—"

"Watch the ballet, Jack."

"But Ianto…you're not serious, are you? You wouldn't really…well, shag an alien, would you?"

"I'm shagging you, aren't I?" asked Ianto. His voice must have been too loud because the couple in front of them turned around with wide eyes.

"But I'm not—" Jack started.

"Relax, Jack," Ianto replied with a silent chuckle as the music started. "I was only joking."

Jack took Ianto's hand and held it tight. "I hope so. I don't want to compete with an alien for your affections."

"You never will, Jack," whispered Ianto. He squeezed Jack's hand, glancing sideways with a small smile.

_And neither will you,_  Jack wanted to add.  _I'm all yours._  But the dancers appeared at that moment, and Ianto's face lit up as the Christmas celebration began on stage to the strains of the familiar holiday music. Jack's gaze was glued to Ianto, who rolled his eyes and gestured toward the stage.

"Watch the ballet, Jack. Not me."

"Yes, sir," he murmured, eliciting another smile from Ianto. They held hands through the first act, though Jack found his mind wandering more than once from the story before him and instead to the remarkable man beside him.

Yes, he was Ianto's, and Ianto was his. For as many holidays as they had together.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw the ballet last season and couldn't resist somehow writing about it. Little did I suspect it would birth an OC! While Ianto mentions Bennett's origin a bit here, there is also more to Bennett's story after this. Someday I hope to write about him one day, as I am sort of intrigued by the idea of Ianto helping and befriending an alien while Jack was gone. Bennett is the happy version; last year I started a much darker twist on something similar. So someday! My 'I want to write a story about this!' list is very, very long. I hope you enjoyed it. The next two are my favorites. :)


	14. Christmas Songs, Part One (Series 2)

Christmas Songs, Part One (Series 2)

"I hate this song," grumbled Owen as he drove back to the Hub after a particularly vigorous Weevil chase.

Gwen turned to him in surprise. "Why?" she asked. "It's the perfect Christmas song!"

"It's crap," Owen griped, reaching over to turn down the radio. "Inane holiday drivel wrapped up in a package of sentimental schmaltz."

Gwen looked slightly shocked at Owen's vehemence. "Ianto?" she asked. "You like this song, don't you?"

"Actually, I find it a depressing insight into the exclusion, oppression, and exploitation of both reindeer and elves."

"What?" asked Gwen and Owen together, turning around to glance at Ianto in the back seat of the SUV, one with wide eyes, one with a raised eyebrow.

"How do you get all that from one lame Christmas song?" asked Owen.

"It's not lame," said Gwen. "It's a heartwarming story about love, loyalty, and acceptance. It's about the Christmas spirit, not exclusion and oppression."

Owen and Ianto snorted in tandem.

"Even I know there is more going on in that stupid story than most people think," said Owen. "So what tweaks your nose, Ianto?"

"Well, to start with, it glorifies being accepted for what you do, not who you are, and only if you can do something no one else can do that happens to be desperately needed during a time of great hardship."

"That's a very bleak way to look at it, Ianto," said Gwen.

"Coffee," Owen coughed under his breath, but Ianto ignored him.

"It's true, though. The physical deformity of the title was only accepted by everyone because the weather conditions at the time were so bad that it was the only way to ensure success."

"Which was why he was a hero," argued Gwen. "He saved Christmas!"

"He enabled the continued exploitation of his fellow workers under a political and economic dictatorship, Gwen," said Ianto. "Workers who had, until that moment, ostracized him for the very physical deformity they suddenly needed so badly." He gazed out the side window, watching the cars go by in the dark, a small smile quirking at his lips. "Given their treatment of him, perhaps that was his intent."

"Wait, are you saying he wanted revenge for being called names so he conned his way into working that night in order to drag them all out into the storm?" asked Owen. Ianto nodded.

"I'm merely suggesting the possibility of darker motives at work in what we have always perceived as a joyous ode to overcoming adversity."

"I'll never listen to it the same way again," Owen muttered. Gwen looked halfway to crushed.

"Have you seen the movie, then?" asked Gwen. "The old one with the funny clay puppets?"

Ianto huffed. "What child hasn't? It's required viewing in most households, I suspect."

"That's because it's good, honest, fun," said Gwen, nodding to herself. "It's hopeful and uplifting, and the songs are wonderful!"

"It's littered with sexism, torment, animal cruelty, and abuse of power," said Ianto. "And the music is positively insipid, Gwen. Bloody awful."

Owen was laughing silently as he continued toward the bay.

"What's so funny?" demanded Gwen. "Ianto is destroying one of my favorite childhood songs! It's nothing to laugh about."

"He's got some good points," said Owen. "I knew there was a reason I didn't like this song."

"Okay, fine," said Gwen. "Start at the beginning. Sexism?"

"Only male reindeers pull the sleigh, for one. Mrs. Claus serving Santa, for another." Ianto leaned forward, poking his head into the front seat. "And when Rudolph's mother wants to go look for him, his father tells her it's a man's job." He leaned back, shaking his head. "Scandalous."

"Yeah, I never liked that part," Gwen admitted. "But it was a product of the times, don't you think?"

"Doesn't make it acceptable today," Ianto pointed out.

"Torment?" asked Gwen.

"Bunch of bullies, the whole lot," said Owen.

"It's part of the lesson," said Gwen. "The bullies learn how heartless and wrong they were."

"Right, just like real life," muttered Owen, adding an eye roll for good measure.

"What about animal cruelty?" asked Gwen, ignoring him. "You're not only talking about the reindeer, are you?"

"There is that," acknowledged Ianto, "but that goes more toward the exploitation of a entire population of creatures who live to serve one man's special needs. No, I was thinking of the Abominable Snowman."

"Bumbles," said Gwen with a fond smile.

"An innocent creature who is rendered helpless by the cruel and unnecessary actions of the dominant species of the North Pole."

"What are you talking about?" asked Gwen.

"You know, that's a good point, Teaboy," said Owen with a nod. "I never thought about it that way."

"What way?" asked Gwen, still not understanding.

"That bloody gay elf ripped its teeth out," said Owen. Ianto leaned forward again and cleared his throat.

"We don't know he was gay, Owen," he pointed out.

"He wanted to be a dentist," said Owen.

"My dentist is straight," said Ianto.

"So is mine," added Gwen. "Wanting to be a dentist doesn't mean you're gay, Owen."

"What did you want to be when you grew up, Jones?" asked Owen, smirking at Ianto. The Welshman rolled his eyes.

"A secret agent protecting the world from evil aliens, of course," he replied dryly.

"Well, you got most of it right," said Owen. "Except for the secret bit." Ianto tipped his head.

"Back to the elf," he said.

"The gay elf," said Owen.

This time Gwen rolled her eyes. "Owen..."

"What? He dressed funny, talked funny, and had an unhealthy oral fixation. Definitely gay, even if he was in the closet."

"Owen Harper," Gwen started, "you are-"

"Trying to wind you up, Gwen," said Ianto. "Don't let him."

Gwen huffed as Owen frowned at Ianto.

"Spoil my fun, why don't you?"

"I believe I just did. Now explain to Gwen why we really have a problem with the elf."

"Because he pulled out all of the snowman's teeth without any anesthesia, leaving him unable to feed or defend himself. Imagine the pain the thing was in!"

"Not to mentioned confused and frightened and probably in shock. And then Yukon Cornelius taunts him over the edge of a cliff." Ianto almost sounded offended. Owen shook his head in amusement.

"I can't believe you remember that guy's name."

"I know everything," said Ianto.

"So sexism, bullying, animal cruelty. Abuse of power would be Santa Claus, I assume." When Ianto nodded, Gwen sighed. "So what else is wrong with my favorite holiday song?" She sounded thoroughly demoralized.

"That about covers it," said Ianto. "Rethinking the bit about heartwarming Christmas spirit?"

"Pick a new favorite, Gwen," said Owen as they pulled into the car park by the Hub. "Ianto Jones has just thoroughly destroyed Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."

"Well, I liked Frosty the Snowman," said Gwen.

"Creepy," said Owen.

"With a spot of murder," added Ianto.

"Santa Claus is Coming to Town?"

"Even I know that song is a not-so-subtle threat to obey authority and toe the party line," said Owen. He turned to glance at Ianto. "How about you?"

"It's crap," said Ianto with a wink.

"Eloquent," snorted Owen.

"You asked."

"What about classic films?" asked Gwen as they got out of the car. "It's a Wonderful Life? White Christmas? A Christmas Carol?"

Ianto opened his mouth, but Owen put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Gwen, don't let him shatter the rest of your holiday dreams. Leave while you can and tell Jack we'll be up with the Weevil in a minute."

She sighed, nodded, and walked off, shoulders slumped. Owen turned to Ianto, hands crossed over his chest.

"Are you really that much of a Scrooge or were you just messing with her?" he demanded. Ianto moved toward the back of the SUV.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I have no idea," said Owen. "You are far too good at things like this, and I hate admitting that."

Ianto grinned. "Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment. Now, 'fess up. Do you really hate Christmas that much?"

"Of course not," said Ianto. "I have very fond memories of Christmas and am looking forward to it this year, actually."

"Then why the Ghost of Christmas Gloom and Doom?" asked Owen, grunting as they pulled a large Weevil from the boot. Ianto slammed the door shut.

"It's amusing."

Owen stared at him. "What?"

"It's fun," Ianto said. "While I enjoy Christmas a great deal, I don't like the hypocrisy inherent in a lot of holiday songs, stories, and other traditions, and pointing it out is both informative and-"

"Fun?"

"Yep."

"So you were messing with her."

"Yep."

"After calling me out on the same?"

"I suppose you could look at it that way." Ianto grinned and picked up the feet of the Weevil. "Come on, let's get him tucked up inside. Work to do."

Owen shook his head. "I don't know how Jack puts up with you sometimes."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was the other way around?"

"Not today," said Owen. "What are you going to do about Gwen?"

"What about Gwen?" asked Ianto.

"You just ruined her favorite childhood memory of Christmas with big words like sexism and exploitation."

They set the Weevil down on the stretcher they kept in the entrance to the Hub for corpses and other large items they couldn't easily carry inside. Rolling it into the lift, Ianto punched the floor for the Hub and waited.

"Well?" asked Owen.

"I'll make it up to her," said Ianto. "Something to restore her faith in trite holiday sentimentality."

"When you put it that way..." Owen murmured, and Ianto acknowledged the irony.

"Besides, do you really think Gwen gives up her convictions that easily?" asked Ianto. "I might have given her something to think about, but she will always strive to see the good in things, no matter how hard she has to look. And really, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is not that bad."

Owen shook his head in disbelief. "You could have fooled me."

"I usually do."

"You know, sometimes you are such a-"

They stepped into the Hub and stopped short. Gwen was sitting on the couch, doubled over with laughter and tears running down her face. Jack and Tosh were standing in front of her, their backs to Owen and Ianto. When they turned around, even Owen cracked a smile.

Jack and Tosh both had bright red noses.

Gwen shrieked with even more laughter at the look on Owen and Ianto's face. Jack smirked.

"Sexism, Ianto? Really?"

Ianto just stared; it was ridiculous and adorable and left him speechless.

"Don't get him started again, Jack," said Owen, clapping Ianto on the shoulder. "Trust me. He can ruin any holiday tradition."

"Even if it involves peppermint whip cream and-"

"Don't." Owen shook his head. "I do not want to know, and yes, Teaboy can destroy it."

Jack winked. "Not if it was his idea."

"Jack!" said Ianto. "Not the time or place."

Jack pretended to pout. "All right. Lock up the Weevil, then meet me in my office. We need to discuss your rather opinionated opinion of one of Earth's most beloved Christmas heroes." He took off the red nose and popped it into his mouth, licking his lips as he finished. Apparently Jack was using a cherry. Ianto's cherries. Cherries he had plans for later…

"Opinionated opinion?" asked Owen.

"Are those my cherries?" asked Ianto.

Jack winked, Owen groaned, Gwen collapsed in another fit of giggles, and Tosh shook her head with a fond smile.

"Ten minutes," said Jack, his voice practically a purr.

Ianto cleared his throat, inclined his head, and tried to affect as straight a face as he could manage. "Yes, sir. But in the meantime, I leave you all with one more thought." He paused for dramatic effect, and to let Gwen catch her breath.

"What if Rudolph had said no?"

With that he hurried off toward the cells, leaving four team members stunned wide-eyed and silent before him. He noticed the jar of cherries on Tosh's desk and grabbed it as he walked by, making sure Jack saw him pocket it, then offered a small smirk.

"Ten minutes and counting,  _sir_."

Ianto turned and left, but not before he heard Owen mutter under his breath, "Stupid reindeer games."

At least he had won.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin, that was fun! So I was watching that goofy clay movie about Rudolph and Hermey and Bumbles and couldn't help imagining this little scene. And when you stop and think about it, the scene where Hermey takes out the snowman's teeth, and then Yukon Cornelius practically pushes him over a cliff, is quite disturbing. Guess I'm not ten years old any more. I hope I didn't ruin anyone's happy memory of Rudolph. It's all in good fun. I'm working on a sequel to restore your faith. ;)


	15. Christmas Songs, Part Two (Series Two)

Christmas Songs, Part Two (Series Two)

The shrill tone of his mobile phone interrupted one of Ianto's better dreams in recent weeks. As he groped for the offensive device, he struggled to remember, but could only recall vague images of him and Jack among the stars, traveling through vast galaxies of marshmallows and gumdrops in a spacecraft shaped like a large sleigh and driven by eight flying Weevils.

Too much curry, then.

"Jones," he rasped into the speaker, untangling himself from the sheets and trying to sit up. He failed, swore under his breath, and fell back to his pillow, letting his eyes slip shut.

"Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?" asked Jack, sounding cheerful and awake. Ianto glanced at his bedside clock.

"No, I'm always awake at two in the morning, Jack," he grumbled. He flung a hand over his eyes and groaned to punctuate the point.

"It's Torchwood," said Jack. "It's not unusual for you to be awake at two in the morning."

"That's usually because of you, not Torchwood," Ianto replied.

Jack laughed. "But it's always worth it, isn't it?"

Ianto let his silence speak for him.

"Ianto?" asked Jack. "Are you still there?"

"Is it an emergency?" asked Ianto.

"Well, no…"

"Then call me back in about four hours." Ianto almost started to hang up, but heard Jack shout his name.

"Jack. I'm tired. If there's no emergency and you just called for phone sex, you could have come over, crawled into bed, and had a real shag in the morning."

"I'll have to remember that next time," Jack said, sounding interested.

"Please do. Then I can get a full night's sleep and wake up to breakfast sex. I'm going back to bed now, Jack."

"You know, if you were here, this would be much easier," said Jack. "I wouldn't have to call and wake you up."

"You'd just poke me, I suppose?"

"I do like to  _poke_  you," Jack replied, voice laden with obvious innuendo.

"And I like to poke you too," Ianto replied. "But not now, not at two in the morning, and not over the phone."

"Then come over."

Ianto held the phone away from his ear and stared at it before returning to the speaker. "Seriously, Jack? You called me in the middle of the night because you want me to trudge over there for a blowjob?"

"Hey, I didn't say anything about a blowjob," Jack protested. "Although it would be nice."

"Of course it would, my blowjobs are always nice," Ianto said, biting back a dirty grin.

"They're brilliant," agreed Jack. "But that's not why I called. Can I come over there if you're going to be stubborn about it?"

"Of course you can, Jack," Ianto sighed. "You know you're always welcome."

Jack was silent for a moment. "I also know you need your space sometimes," he pointed out. "Especially when things get a bit crazy around here."

"True enough," Ianto admitted, surprised that Jack not only noticed but also acknowledged Ianto's more introverted nature. "It has been a bit hectic lately."

"Which is why you deserve a Rift-free night in your own flat," said Jack. "It's just that there's something I wanted to show you."

"Uh-oh." Ianto tried not to think of what that meant coming from Jack, especially in the middle of the night.

"No, it's not like last time. Are your neighbors home?"

"Of course they're home, Jack. It's two in the morning!" Ianto shook his head. Sometimes Jack was so innocent and oblivious it was both exasperating and endearing.

"Damn. I don't want them to see anything."

Ianto snorted. "It's not like they haven't heard us before, Jack."

"Believe it or not, Ianto Jones, I'm not talking about sex."

"I'm shocked," Ianto deadpanned. He was awake now, so he might as well have fun with it.

"I am too," laughed Jack. "But you should come over here unless you want to Retcon your neighbors."

"Which I certainly don't," Ianto sighed. "Why can't we do this in the morning?"

"Because it snowed and right now the Plass is dark, empty, and quiet."

Ianto considered as he threw off the blanket and untangled himself from the sheets. "So I should dress warm then?"

"Boots and all."

"Jack, are you sure it's not an emergency?" he asked, standing, stretching, and holding back a yawn and a shiver. "My bed is far more appealing than cold and snow."

"It's not an emergency," said Jack. "But it is alien."

Ianto wandered through the dark toward his bathroom, blinking as the bright lights made him squint. "Tech retrieval?" he asked. He dropped his pyjama pants and began to empty his bladder. Jack must have heard.

"Ianto, are you actually pissing while we're on the phone?"

"Jack, I'm still half asleep. I'm just glad I hit the toilet and not the sink." Ianto wanted to take it back the moment he said it, knowing it was uncharacteristic for him, but Jack was laughing hysterically, and as it was the middle of the night and Ianto was dressing to go out in the snow, he didn't much care.

"Wash your hands," Jack teased. "And meet me by the tourist office in twenty minutes."

"Yes, sir," Ianto groused.

"Ianto?" Jack called before he hung up.

"What, Jack?"

"It'll be worth it," he promised. "And I'll make it up to you for waking you."

"With sex," Ianto said.

"It's what I'm good at," said Jack, the wink implied in his tone. Ianto tucked the phone under his ear as he washed his hands.

"I want hot chocolate and breakfast in bed," he said.

"And sex?," asked Jack.

"Of course," replied Ianto. "It's what  _we're_ good at, after all."

"Deal!" said Jack. "You'll love it. I promise."

"I'll see you in a few, then."

"Thanks, Ianto."

Ianto hung up the phone and brushed his teeth. He hated to admit it, but he was genuinely curious now. Jack had promised him breakfast in bed. When had that ever happened? Dressing quickly, Ianto pulled on boots, then his warmest coat, along with a hat, gloves, and scarf. He stepped outside into a winter wonderland and couldn't help but sigh at the sight. It was beautiful.

Maybe this would be worth it after all.

* * *

The Plass was indeed dark and quiet, the new fallen snow completely unmarked by human passage. The sky was starting to clear and a few stars were breaking through the thin clouds. Ianto had to resist the temptation to lie down and make a snow angel and just stare at the sky, maybe even drift off to sleep again in a cold bed of white. Instead, he made his way toward the tourist office to find Jack.

Jack was rolling a snowball around the nearby boardwalk area, catching as much snow as he could to make it bigger. Ianto watched for a moment, admiring the view as Jack bent over to push it along, then cleared his throat when it became obvious Jack was completely engrossed in his project.

"Ianto!" he exclaimed. "Perfect timing. I'm just about finished with the head."

Ianto raised his eyebrow at the implicit insinuation, but Jack rolled his eyes. "For once I meant that literally. Here we go."

He picked up the snowball and placed it on top of two others he had already rolled.

"You called me out here to build a snowman in the middle of the night?"

"Nope," said Jack, standing back and reaching into his pockets. "I'm just about done. I called you out here to meet the final product." He pulled several items from his pocket, and soon the snowman had two black stones for eyes, a large carrot for a nose, a piece of string for a mouth, and one of Jack's old scarves. A pipe, two sticks for arms, and two small lumps of snow for feet completed the look.

"Needs a hat," said Ianto, and Jack nodded in agreement.

"I know, and I have the perfect one."

He stepped into the tourist office and returned with a top hat Ianto had never seen before. A questioning look got him a sheepish shrug as Jack placed it on top of the snowman.

"I picked it up a few days ago, hoping it would snow soon," said Jack. "But it's a bit more than just a hat. Come here." He motioned Ianto to stand next to him, pulled him close, and gave him a quick kiss. And while Ianto was not usually so accepting of such random displays of affection, he was still curious and a bit tired, and returned it eagerly, thinking of how Jack had promised to make it up to him.

"All right, Scrooge," Jack whispered. "You may not hold Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in high esteem, but surely a walking, talking snowman deserves a bit of respect."

Ianto glanced between Jack and the snowman standing in front of the tourist office door. "You must be joking."

"Not his time," Jack murmured. He raised his arm and pressed several buttons on his wrist strap. Ianto was torn between watching Jack and watching the snowman, but when the snowman really did begin to come to life, he found he could not take his eyes away.

The snowman moved its arms first, then its head. It tried to take a tentative step forward, but the lumps of snow for feet didn't move well. The mouth made of string opened and closed a few times, though no sound came out. The string curved into a frown; Jack tweaked his wrist strap, and the snowman spoke.

"Happy Birthday!" it said, mouth curving into an endearing smile. Ianto gaped at the snowman as it came toward them, toddling awkwardly on its lumpy feet.

"Hello, Jack," it said, holding out its stick-for-a-hand. "It's good to see you again."

Jack wrapped his fingers around the thin branch and smiled. "You too. It's been, what? At least twenty or thirty years?"

"I am not aware of the passage of time," the snowman said. "To me, it was only yesterday that we last spoke."

"Of course," murmured Jack. He turned and gestured to Ianto. "This is Ianto Jones. He works for Torchwood."

The snowman held out his stick hand, and Ianto shook it, still somewhat speechless. Jack watched before laughing at his reaction.

"Ianto Jones, meet Frost. He came here in 1950," Jack said. "He's actually a bit of alien technology that animates objects with artificial intelligence. It was found in New York before making its way over here."

Ianto turned and stared at Jack. "You're not serious."

"He is correct, Mr. Jones," said the snowman. "I am actually a Klaustar Animator 2.1 from the year 2876," he said. "My mechanism fell through the Rift into a hat. The hat was eventually placed on a snowman that became fully animated. The form seems to be an appropriate one for this time and place."

"He means it sort of stuck," said Jack with a wink.

"I still don't understand," said Ianto.

"This  _is_  Frosty the Snowman, Ianto," said Jack. "The original. He inspired the song. The American branch of UNIT found the Animator running around a downtown square after a group of kids pulled the hat out of a rubbish bin and placed it on their snowman. I was sent over to appropriate the technology."

"For Torchwood," murmured Ianto.

"For Torchwood." Jack grinned and pulled Ianto close once again. "So what do you think?"

Ianto shook his head in wonder. "I'm thinking you might just have Father Christmas hidden away in the Hub somewhere."

"Nope," said Jack. "He didn't like being tied up."

"That's disgusting," said Ianto. Frost did not respond, but glanced down and tried walking some more. He stopped and sighed.

"Jack, I need real boots."

"I couldn't find any," started Jack.

"I have some," said Ianto. For some reason, he wanted to see the snowman laugh and play; it was part of the story, after all. Jack nodded and motioned toward the door, so Ianto hurried toward the tourist office. In the back room he dug out the wellies he kept on hand for those rare occasions he remembered they were there to be used.

"Here you go, sir," he said, holding them out. "Although I'm not sure how this works."

"I'll have to turn you off for a minute," said Jack, sounding apologetic.

"Go ahead, Jack," said Frost. "I'll be fine."

Ianto's watched as Jack toyed with his wrist strap and the snowman stilled. He took the boots from Ianto and worked them into the bottom snowball, digging out a place for them before stepping back.

"Let's try this again," he murmured. He touched his wrist strap, and the snowman came back to life right before Ianto's eyes.

"Happy New Year!" he exclaimed this time, and Ianto couldn't help it: he laughed out loud at the sheer wonder of it all.

"Welcome back," said Jack. "We found some better boots." Frost glanced down and smiled, then began to move them, much more fluidly than earlier.

"This is amazing," Ianto murmured to Jack, and to his surprise, Jack took his hand and squeezed it.

"I'm glad you like it," Jack whispered.

Frost was watching them, and though his eyes were nothing more than two black dots in sea of snow, Ianto had the distinct impression that they were sparkling with amusement.

"More than just a co-worker, Jack?"

"Yep," said Jack, pulling Ianto close. "So do your thing, I woke him up to come down here and meet you."

"Jack," said Ianto. "He's not here to perform for us-"

"Actually, that is a large part of my programming," said Frost. "Particularly with this form. Come, we can frolic and play the Eskimo way." He held out a stick hand, and Ianto laughed again.

"Wrong song," he said. "And as much as I would love to, I know someone who would like it even better. Someone  _I'd_  like you to meet, if it's not too much trouble."

Frost nodded, but Jack frowned. "Ianto, this isn't for the public, you know. It took UNIT a long time to clean up in New York."

Ianto couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Of course I know that, Jack. And as much as I would love to show my niece and nephew, I had someone else in mind." He turned to Frost. "Would you mind talking to her? If it's not too much trouble."

"Jack?" asked Frost, obviously seeking permission.

"I think I'm figuring it out. Sounds good to me." He stepped toward Ianto and kissed him firmly. "You're a good man," he murmured.

"So are you," Ianto murmured back. "Thank you for sharing this."

"Some Christmas stories really are magical," said Jack. "I didn't want you to forget that."

"Because of what I said to Gwen about Rudolph?"

"Because what we do is difficult, and I know it's hard not to get cynical. Hard to keep fighting, keep believing."

Ianto glanced at the snowman, walking and talking just as song proclaimed, and smiled. "I still believe, Jack."

"Good," said Jack. "Then let's spread the joy. You frolic and play while I call her and grab some Retcon just in case someone sees our friend."

Ianto cocked an eyebrow. "I thought we were saving the frolic and play for afterward."

Jack wagged his eyebrows. "Oh, you can count on it. Hot chocolate and breakfast in bed." He crossed his fingers over his heart. "I keep my promises."

"Let me make the call, she won't argue as much if I call her in the middle of the night. And the sooner we do this, the sooner we'll be alone so you can keep that promise."

Jack offered one of his trademark salutes and hurried into the office. Ianto watched him fondly before pulling out his phone and turning back to Frost.

"You haven't met Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, by any chance, have you?"

* * *

Two hours later Jack and Ianto stumbled back into the Hub, chilled to the bone but warm inside. Ianto was thrilled with the effect Frost had had on Gwen. At first, Rhys had been furious when Ianto had called to have Gwen meet them at the tourist office. When he had invited her husband along, assuring them both that they were not going on a Weevil hunt, Rhys had grumbled about snow and sleep and bloody Torchwood, Gwen clearly agreeing yet still trying to calm him in the background.

When the couple had stepped into the sheltered area on the boardwalk and seen Frost talking animatedly with Jack and Ianto about his last winter in Cardiff, they had both stopped dead in their tracks. The look of sheer wonder on Gwen's face had been one Ianto would remember for a long time. Strangely enough, Jack had quietly moved away to the edge of the boardwalk, giving the lead to Ianto while he kept watch. Gwen and Rhys forgot he was even there, they were so entranced by Frost.

Gwen had been speechless for a moment, but found her voice soon enough, quickly overwhelming both Ianto and Frost with excited questions before she had laughed and danced and even had a snowball fight with the snowman. At which point Jack finally stepped in to tell them it was time to clean up before any early morning workers or runners happened upon them. Jack had some Retcon from the Hub, but Ianto would have hated to use it in such a magical situation.

So they had all said their goodbyes, and Jack had de-animated Frost, leaving the picture perfect snowman intact on the boardwalk for others to enjoy. Ianto had grabbed his boots and Jack his scarf, and they had walked Gwen and Rhys back to their car. Gwen had whispered her thanks to Ianto, hugging him fiercely and kissing him on the cheek before Jack had shooed her home and told her to come in at lunch.

Ianto returned to the Hub with Jack, listening contentedly as Jack told him about the first time he had met Frost. He thought about the remarkable few hours he had just experienced; he had not only met a talking snowman, but Jack had been the one to share it with him. Jack had given him a rare gift: a glimpse at his past, a peek at the future, and something to believe in. It was one of the most thoughtful things anyone had done for him, let alone Jack, and it made Ianto feel all kinds of things he wasn't sure he should be feeling about their unusual relationship.

Tossing his coat on the sofa and setting the top hat down on Ianto's desk, Jack turned and helped Ianto out of his coat before pulling him into a brief but warm and leisurely kiss.

"Did you like it?" he asked softly, arms around Ianto's waist.

"It was incredible," Ianto replied, punctuating it with another kiss.

"So are you," Jack murmured, nuzzling at his neck. Ianto pulled away to look Jack in the eyes.

"I mean it, Jack. I can't think of anything as amazing as what you did tonight. Thank you for sharing."

Jack was practically glowing with the praise, yet there was also such a genuine fondness in his eyes that Ianto found it hard to hold his gaze. He swallowed and gazed back at Jack until the other man smiled and nodded in silent understanding. Of what, neither of them would probably say.

"You're welcome," Jack said. "You deserved it. You deserve something incredible and amazing. You know that, right?"

Ianto glanced away. "So do you."

"I have you," Jack whispered, and Ianto inhaled sharply at the unsaid meaning behind Jack's words.

"Yes, you do," he whispered back, and they kissed until it started to get a bit messy, and Jack pulled away this time, slightly breathless.

"I do believe I promised you hot chocolate and breakfast in bed," he said. Ianto cocked an eyebrow.

"That wasn't all you promised," he pointed out.

"Whatever else could there be?" asked Jack over his shoulder as he headed toward the small kitchen. Ianto followed curiously and leaned against the wall, watching as Jack began to prepare their hot chocolate.

"Something you're quite good at," Ianto said, enjoying the playful banter after the intense exchange they'd shared moments earlier.

"That's right!" Jack mock exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Something we're  _both_  good at."

Ianto stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jack, letting his chin rest against Jack's shoulder. "So how about hot chocolate, sex, and breakfast out after a few hours of sleep?"

Jack turned around and pulled him close. "I promised you breakfast in bed."

"We don't have anything here at the Hub," Ianto replied. "So we can go to that cafe, the one with the amazing pastries."

Jack grinned and moved toward a cabinet. "You mean these pastries?" He pulled out a box of muffins and scones and Welsh cakes. Ianto gaped at him.

"When did you get those?"

"Right after lunch yesterday," Jack laughed, setting the box down. "When it looked like it was definitely going to snow tonight."

"But what…you mean…how did you know?" Ianto was even more astounded now, and almost wondered if he should be worried about Jack being possessed. That Jack had shown such foresight in planning something so considerate both amazed and touched Ianto more than he could say.

"I know you, Ianto Jones," Jack replied, still playful but with a hint of seriousness. "I know they're your favorite. And I knew you'd hate having to get up in the middle of the night, so I had them ready as a sort of bargaining chip. So, was it worth getting up at two in the morning or would you rather be back in your bed, all alone, with no hot chocolate, no sex, and no breakfast in bed?" He began to mix two mugs of hot chocolate, grinning as he stirred.

Ianto was overwhelmed and speechless. Silently he stepped to Jack's side and stilled his hands, setting the spoon down and pulling Jack toward him instead. He kissed Jack, soft and gentle even though his body was demanding something entirely different, then took Jack's hands in his own and led him towards the office.

"What about the hot chocolate?" asked Jack. Ianto just shook his head, still overwhelmed by Jack's incredible insight and thoughtfulness. He dimmed the lights in the Hub, and then took Jack into his office, where a single lamp on the desk lit the area. Moving toward the computer, Ianto quickly brought up some music, starting a soft and slow holiday song. Jack's eyes followed him, lips turned up in a gentle smile that was so rare it sometimes made Ianto's heart ache, that Jack didn't share it more often. He held out his hand, and Jack stepped forward, once again letting Ianto take the lead, even though Ianto had never led a dance with him before. Yet even though so much about that night was new, it felt comfortable. Natural. Almost normal.

They swayed in time to the strains of Nat King Cole, slow steps turning them in circles around the darkened office. It was almost five in the morning and Ianto was exhausted, but his mind was racing, and all he could think of was showing the man in his arms how much he appreciated the gift he had been given that night, how touched he was by Jack's unexpected and attentive gesture.

And how much he truly cared.

A languid kiss, another dance, and as the song finished, Ianto took Jack's hand and led him toward the room below, all thoughts of snowmen and chestnuts gone from his mind, his thoughts on one thing only.

"Time for me to make it worth it?" Jack murmured.

"You already have," Ianto murmured back, earning that secret smile once more. He tucked it away with the other memories of that night, in that part of his heart that was for Jack, the part that really did believe in the magic of Christmas.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, have I restored your faith after what Ianto did to Rudolph? I must say, when I started this, I had no idea the opening banter would veer into such sentimental fluff. But that does tend to happen with these two, doesn't it? Fluff or angst. I hope you enjoyed one of their more romantic moments. One more story, and this series will be complete. Thank you for reading!


	16. 'Twas The Night Before Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the last of my holidays stories! I do hope you have enjoyed my drabbles and stories. I have really appreciated all the comments and kudos! Thank you so much! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season, filled with much love and wonder.

  
'Twas The Night Before Christmas at Torchwood Three

'Twas the night before Christmas, while all through the base,  
Not an alien had appeared from time or from space.

The weapons were stored under lock and with key,  
With hopes that the Rift would that night let them be.

The team had all left, now snug in their beds,  
While mugs full of coffee danced in their heads.

And Jack in his braces, and Ianto in his tie,  
Were shutting things down before saying goodbye.

Then out on the Plass there arose such a clatter,  
They sprang from their work to see what was the matter.

Away to the cameras they flew without pause,  
Scanning the screens to find the right cause.

The moon on the sheen of the snow-covered ground  
Gave a luster of magic to the pillars around.

When what to their wonder appeared in the night  
But a large box of blue strung with white fairy lights.

Out strode a tall man, so lively and quick,  
It seemed for a moment he might be St. Nick.

More rapid than Weevils, seven reindeer then came,  
And he whistled and clicked and called them by name:

"Now Donna, now Martha, now Rose and now Jack,  
On Amy and Rory, wait Clara - hold back!

To the top of the tower, the top of the wall-  
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

As chronons within the time vortex will fly,  
When they travel through space and across the dark sky;

So 'round the tower the reindeer now flew,  
Above and around the spaceship of blue.

And then, in a twinkling, they heard o'er the Rift,  
The sound of deep laughter from up on the lift.

Jack gasped in surprise, and they both turned around  
As down the man came with a large manic bound.

He was dressed all in brown, from his head to his toe,  
An old fashioned pinstripe now covered in snow.

A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,  
And he looked rather puckish, holding his pack.

His eyes - how they twinkled behind glasses so strong;  
His face was clean-shaven, though his sideburns quite long.

A sharp chin and mouth were drawn up in a grin,  
As he winked at them both before walking right in.

The stump of a screwdriver was held in his teeth,  
And it glowed green and white, like an alien wreath.

He had a smart face and an obvious wit,  
And he laughed as he hugged them, then bade them to sit.

He was skinny and tall, an eccentric old soul;  
His manner both charming and utterly droll.

A nod of his head and a twist of his ear,  
Soon gave them to know they had nothing to fear.

He babbled nonstop and walked straight through the base,  
Poking and prodding all over the place.

He left them all gifts with a wink of the eye,  
Then with an embrace, he soon said goodbye.

As he ran to his ship, to his team he did call,  
And they soon disappeared, each one and all.

Yet they heard him exclaim 'fore the ship disappeared-  
"Happy Christmas to Torchwood, and to all a good year!"

 


End file.
